Angels Among Us
by Valtira
Summary: Not everything at the end of a rainbow is a Pot O’ Gold. Sam is enslaved by a magical creature, his fate may be worse than death. Dean is grievously injured can he push himself beyond his limits to save Sam?
1. Chapter 1

**Angels Among Us**

By

Valtira

_**Sam finds a sad little girl sitting on a park bench. Her brother went missing under strange circumstances. The young hunter is driven to help her find her brother. What he finds is more than he bargained for. This story contains some bad language, angst, pain, misery and adventure.**_

**Disclaimer**: The usual – don't own them – don't make any money from using and abusing them. Just in it for fun!

I have a great new Beta, who's doing her best to keep me on the straight and narrow and fixing all my boo boo's. JackFan2, this one's for you.

_**Reviews keep me motivated. I hope you will take the time to let me know how you feel about the story! No Flames please!**_

_**AAU 1A Walk in the Park**_

Sam pushed the key into the lock of the motel room door, casting a casual glance to his left and right. It was in that moment, someone caught his eye and he did a small double take. Brow furrowed, he gazed at the scene across the street. By all appearances it was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was just something about it that gave him pause.

She sat alone on a bench beneath the tall oak, her fingers twirling the stem of a daisy as she stared across the little park. She couldn't have been more than ten or eleven years old, and she looked so sad he thought, like she'd lost her best friend. It was the second day in the row he'd seen her sitting there. 

The more he observed, he realized that no one stopped to talk to her, in truth several people deliberately made a wide berth around the bench so they wouldn't have to talk to her. That made him mad. Sighing he knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about her until he knew her story.

Resolved to his task, Sam stepped into the room and dropped the sack of groceries he'd been carrying on the table. Closing the door behind him he headed across the street into the park. He moved slowly so as not to startle her. Crossing the worn gravel path, he sat down on the opposite end of the bench and adopted a casual appearance. She didn't look up, didn't acknowledge his presence, but he could hear her mumbling beneath her breath.

He cleared his throat before speaking hoping to catch her attention. "Hi, I'm Sam, Sam Winchester" he introduced himself.

She looked up wide-eyed as if she hadn't seen him sit down. Her head swiveled right then left in surprise before settling on him. "Hi," she whispered in return.

"I'm sorry, I didn't meant to interrupt, but I saw you sitting here and you looked so sad," Sam blurted out.

A reluctant smile twitched at her lips. "Sam," she asked hesitantly?

"Yeah, Sam," he returned. Paused, then asked, "You ok?"

She sighed and stared out across the green patch of grass into the trees and shrugged without answering. Even from the side, Sam could see that her eyes held the weight of the world in their silvery depths. 

Knowing he was going to sound like a stalker with the next couple of questions, he expelled a nervous puff of air and trudged on. "Is your mom or dad around anywhere?" 

Sad eyes swung to his face. "I'm Angela McKenzie, my mom is over there," she whispered pointing to a tall woman pinning a flyer to a tree. 

He sighed, knowing a flyer usually meant trouble. A loved one lost or a favorite pet had gone missing and he hoped for this girls' sake, it was the later. 

His hopes were quickly squashed.

"My brother went away," she continued. "My mom says it's because of me." The last was blurted out, so raw and full of pain that Sam blinked in surprise. 

"What," he asked in confusion, "Why would she say that?"

"She said I never kept my feet on the ground, always had my head in the clouds dreaming about things that weren't real. Charlie only wanted to help, it was all for fun, but now he's gone."

"Gone where," Sam asked quickly?

Angela dropped her head to stare at her hands that were clasped together in her lap. "Mom doesn't know. She thinks he ran away, but I think maybe someone stole him," she murmured softly. "I hear mom crying every night. She only says those things because she's sad."

"How old is your brother," Sam prompted?

"Seventeen, almost eighteen," she said proudly.

"Why do you think someone stole him? Did something bad happen?" he asked cautiously.

The little head nodded and he saw a tear roll down her cheek. "I got hurt and mom blamed Charlie. She said he was irresponsible."

"I'm sorry," the young hunter whispered. "I'm sure Charlie never meant to hurt you." 

Her eyes sparked angrily as she answered. "Charlie would never hurt me," she cried fiercely.

Sam knew her anger wasn't directed at him and pushed on, needing more information. Her comment about always having her head in the clouds gave him the opening he needed. "What kind of things do you dream about?" 

A tiny smile tilted the corner of her lips; her silvery eyes took on a far away look as she spoke. "I liked to dream about all kinds of stuff, especially Unicorns, Dragons and fairies. I saw a fairy once, but no one would believe me except Charlie. He took me out in the back yard and we lay in the grass for hours watching the fairies dancing in the moonlight. They were so beautiful," she breathed. "A little pink one came over and danced in Charlie's hand. She had long pink hair with tiny ribbons and roses in it. She was so beautiful. Mom said they were only fireflies, but she's wrong," the little girl replied vehemently!

Seconds later the smile returned, "The fairy tied Charlie's shoelaces in a knot. We laughed until our sides ached. When he tried to stand up his feet got tangled and he fell over instead."

The young hunter knew just how mischievous fairies could be. "I know a couple of pixies, a blue one and a yellow one," Sam told her. "Their names are Periwinkle and Buttercup."

Her eyes danced merrily, "Pixies," she screamed laughing. "I've never seen a pixie what are they like?"

"Well," Sam shook his head but smiled at the knowledge, "they aren't very different from Fairies, but they love to cause trouble."

He heard her giggle. The lilting sound soothed his tired body. "Will you tell me what happened the day you got hurt," he prompted gently?

It was a minute before she spoke again and he saw another teardrop slip down her cheek. She didn't brush it away but caught it and held it in her hand. The tear glistened and sparkled in the sunshine until the wind gently dried it away.

"Charlie was reading me this book about Leprechauns. It talked about shamrocks and a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I love rainbows – don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I do," Sam acknowledged. 

"It rained real hard the next day but the sun was out. Charlie called it a sun shower. There was a beautiful double rainbow. We took mom's car out to the big meadow in the park."

Sam knew the park she talked about was the Rocky Mountain National Park; the entrance was about a mile from where they sat. It stood as the gateway to Rockies.

"It was so beautiful that day. Charlie grabbed my hand and we ran across the field toward the end of the rainbow. It was so much fun. Charlie kept throwing me up in the air so I could catch the rainbow but it kept moving away. They were trying to trick us so we had to be sneaky. He said the Leprechauns didn't want us to find their pot of gold. "

"Did you catch the rainbow," Sam asked delightfully? He knew fairy folk existed, had seen them on more than one occasion. He'd never seen a Leprechaun but they did exist, of that he was certain.

She smiled and shook her head, "Charlie tripped and fell. He had grass stains on his knees and dirt all over his shirt and a big sunflower sticking out of his hair. We laughed so hard, it was so much fun."

"When Charlie turned around and sat up we saw the rainbow at his feet. It was so beautiful," she sighed wistfully. "There was a little wooden barrel and the rainbow was right there. I ran my hand through it and it came out all sparkly."

Her smile dimmed and her brows wrinkled in concentration. "Something happened after that it's hard to remember exactly," she whispered quietly.

"So you found the Leprechaun's pot of gold," he teased.

"Not gold; when Charlie tripped, he broke the wooden barrel and some red stuff came out. Charlie said it was wine," she grimaced. "He made me taste it, I didn't like it."

"Wine," he mussed silently what the heck did wine have to do with Leprechauns and Rainbows? 

"What happened after that," Sam prompted.

Charlie took the barrel back to the car, it was empty, but it was pretty. Charlie said it was really old and it had some kind of writing on it. He couldn't read it. I don't remember what happened after that and now Charlie is gone."

"Was there an accident," Sam asked?

Angela bit at her lower lip in concentration trying to remember what happened. As if to confirm with out really knowing why, she whispered, "Mom has a new car now."

"Was Charlie hurt in the accident?"

Angela shrugged, "I don't know. Charlie went away after that; Mom said he never came home. He just ran away – that he couldn't face what he had done. The police came to the house, they told Mom they thought he was dragged from the car. That maybe someone kidnapped him. Mom said she didn't believe them."

He watched the little face and saw the hurt sadness in her eyes. Sam didn't believe for a second the boy had run away. He loved his little sister he wouldn't have left her alone in a wrecked car. Something else was going on here. Glancing across the street Sam saw his brother drive up. They were between hunts at the moment. Dean wouldn't object too strenuously – he hoped!

Angela studied him carefully. A light sparkled in her eyes as she looked at him, "Will you help find Charlie," she asked hopefully?

He groaned silently, he was going to look into it, but he didn't want to commit just yet. "I can't make any promises Angela, but I'll see what I can do."

"Whoopee," she shouted. "You'll find him, I know you will," she whispered.

"Angela…" he started only to see her fly to her feet. "I have to talk to my brother first, ok?"

Spying a figure across the road standing next to a black car Angela pointed toward the hotel asking, "Is that your brother?"

Sam's head came up a wry smile on his lips as he watched his brother open the door to their motel room. "Yeah that's my brother, Dean."

A beaming smile on her lips, Angela turned her face up to look at Sam, "He looks nice."

A rumbling chuckle filled the young hunter's chest before he answered, "Yeah, Dean's a real sweetheart."

Angela stood and faced him, a joyful smile lighting her face. "Bye Sam, I have to go now," she whispered. "Thank you!" And with that, she was gone. Through the trees, her floating stride carried her quickly across the grass to her mother's side. 

Sam watched as the girl's mother glanced down, but she didn't say anything, or take the child's hand. Annoyed at her lack of compassion, Sam felt the urge to shake the woman silly for the way she was treating her daughter. With a mother like that, maybe Charlie did run away. 

"No," he told himself thoughtfully. Charlie would never have abandoned his sister, not unless he was hurt – or like the cops had speculated – kidnapped.

Once again, he looked at the woman striding slowly down the sidewalk, Angela at her side. Her head was bent, her shuffling feet, her whole body was a picture of deep despair and depression. Maybe her words were a façade to protect the love and fear she held inside. 

Sam knew all about walled up emotions. His brother was a master at hiding them. He loved his reckless, sarcastic, cynical, asshole of a brother. The words he spoke then were filled with something even he had a hard time naming. "He's your brother. Charlie would give his life for you," he whispered brokenly. He spoke Charlie's name, but Angela's brother wasn't the intended target.

Angela turned then and waved. She had been waiting, waiting for a long time, but they were finally here and she was glad. They would find Charlie, she knew they would. She bit her lip, her smile dimming as she turned away. They were strong, they would survive whatever trouble came their way; she had faith in them.

--------------------------------------

_**Chapter 1 down and no nasty cliffie and I didn't kill anyone. What a concept. Please R & R for me, you don't have to of course, but I love hearing from you. Thanks**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks to all who have taken the time to read and review. I appreciate each and every one of you. Another thanks to Jackfan2 for being a great Beta. Now on to another chapter.**_

_**AAU 2Persuasion**_

Sam sat on the little bench beneath the oak and watched Angela walk away. She stood beside her mother as they walked down the sidewalk. She turned back once and waved with a sad smile on her face. It did something to Sam's heart. He knew the world was a cruel place. If her brother really had run away, Sam was going to ring his neck for hurting the little girl that way. Sighing, he hauled his lanky frame off the bench and headed back to the motel. A little research was in order. 

"Bye, Angela," he whispered softly. The crossroads demon would just have to wait a little longer. 

Lost in his thoughts he came through the door and nearly barreled into his brother.

"Whoa, slow down Speed Racer," Dean quipped as he stumbled backward and flopped on the bed.

"Sorry," Sam whispered his mind still on the girl. He did not see the concerned look on his brother's face.

It was Dean's turn to sigh and think _what the hell was going on with Sam now_. _He seems distracted._ "What's up Sam?" he asked quickly. 

"Hmmm?" Sam replied not really hearing the question.

Crossing the room, Dean reached up to place a hand on his brother's forehead, "You coming down with something, Sammy?" he chuckled.

Sam sighed and shot his brother a disgusted look. "What do you know about Leprechauns?"

Dean stepped back and shot his brother a 'what now' kinda look, "Their short, green and Irish," he replied impishly.

Sam snorted and walked away.

Dean groaned. Something was up and he was not going to like it. "What are you thinking, Sam?"

Sitting down at the table, Sam opened his laptop wondering what to say to his brother that would not sound too crazy. "I met a girl in the park today."

"Was she cute?" Dean fired back.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, she's ten," he growled. Holding back his temperthe young hunter shook his head. "Her brother Charlie McKenzie went missing."

"People go missing all the time Sam, what's so strange about this one?"

"His sister said they were chasing rainbows and something strange happened."

Dean's jaw dropped, "You're kidding right? Chasing rainbows and what – they found a pot of gold and a leprechaun?" He grumbled, "Give me a break geek boy." 

Sam ducked his head and started typing the word leprechaun into the search engine on his computer. "Not a pot of gold, Dean. A barrel of wine," he mumbled.

"A barrel of wine?" Dean snorted in disgust. "Have you been drinking Sam, 'cause it sure as hell sounds like it? A wine barrel? What the hell does a wine barrel have to do with rainbows and a Leprechaun.

"I don't know… yet," the young hunter informed him.

Flopping back across the bed, Dean threw an arm across his eyes to shut out the light. "Well when you find out, let me know. I'm thirsty."

"You are such a jerk," the young hunter mumbled.

"Damn straight, bitch," Dean fired back smiling.

Sam was too distracted to see the smile on his brother's face. His attention was riveted on the article in front of him. It seems that such a creature did exist, and it was a Leprechaun of sorts - a Clurichaun (Kloo-ra-kahn). Instead of gold they hoarded ale and wine. Yeah, Dean was going to have a field day with this one. 

The article was interesting and this creature could be exactly what he was looking for. Always drunk, the Clurichaun were nasty, surly creatures, prone to violence and very possessive of their hoard. They were magical creatures and so could wield some sort of supernatural power. Woo to the man or woman who got in between them and their drink. 

Sam looked up and stared out the window. Maybe – just maybe that is what happened to Charlie. He had broken the wine barrel and the little creature had gotten his revenge. Sam hoped Charlie was still alive somewhere. He was kicking himself for not asking Angela how long he had been missing when he remembered the flyers.

Slamming the computer shut he jumped from the chair – knocking it over in the process. 

Half asleep, Dean shot to a sitting position on guard and ready for action, with the glock he kept under his pillow poised and ready. 

"Down boy," Sam chuckled as he headed for the door. "A slight overreaction don't ya think bro?" he laughed. "You're a little jumpy today." Hearing his brother grumble, he opened the door and leapt for safety as a pillow came flying at him. 

Sam was still laughing as he crossed the street into the park. Surprisingly, Dean was in a good mood for some reason; especially with the crossroad Demon's bargain hanging over his head.

The flyers were easy to spot but he was surprised by what he saw. Charlie McKenzie has the look of his sister. His hair is a little darker, his eyes more blue than gray. The part that surprised him was Charlie had been missing for over six months. "Damn," he muttered beneath his breath. Dean was not going to take this job without a lot of persuasion. How to persuade him was the thing, but then again, maybe Dean would not ask how long the kid had been gone. 'Not bloody likely,' he grumbled to himself.

Sam walked back into the room to find his brother sitting at the computer. He looked… it was hard to describe. Sad was his first thought and something else he could not put his finger on – grief? Sorrow maybe? 

"Why are you doing this Sammy?" Dean asked without looking up.

"She asked me to," he replied cautiously. "The look in her eyes tore at my heart."

Looking up Dean searched his brother's face asking: "She?"

"Angela. Charlie's sister," Sam replied.

Dean had his poker face on - he did not say a word. His gaze went back to the computer searching for answers he could not find. The hunter stared at the words on the computer, words that told him a different story. The face of a little girl about ten or eleven stared back at him. He, too, had seen the lonely little girl sitting in the park. He sighed and took his brother's words on faith. Dead or alive Charlie needed to be found. If Sam wanted to do this, he would help. Closing the article and he logged off the system and sat back in his chair. "Ok, we find Charlie," he stated calmly.

The words threw him for a loop. It should not have been that easy, but Sam was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Dean's mind was churning, "We need to find the car and that barrel, if possible."

"The car is probably down at the impound lot. If the barrel isn't in the car it's probably in the lockup, and that's not going to be easy," Sam threw in.

A mischievous smile teased Dean's lips and Sam groaned at that look, hesitantly asking, "Maybe we go for the car first…?"

"Yeah maybe," Dean chuckled. "And pigs fly," he threw in for good measure.

Sam groaned. His brother was up to something, he didn't know what, but he knew it meant trouble for someone and that someone usually ended up being him. Grumbling beneath his breath he gathered his gear. 

Dean was already out the door, "Come on turtle boy, you're holding up progress here."

"Jesus, Dean where the hell do you come up with this crap?" Sam mumbled.

"Pure genius, Sammy, pure genius," Dean smiled. 

Sam whistled a happy tune as he walked away from the motel. Glancing across the road into the park he saw the bench was empty but he knew she would be back tomorrow. That thought made him sad.

------------------------------------

_**Not a lot of action mostly just lead in, there will be some whumping later I promise.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks to all of you for reading my little ditty. Especially those that reviewed. Kudo's to my great new Beta Jackfan2, huggers all - hope you enjoy this chapter which delves into Charlie side of things..**_

_**AAU 3Pot O' Gold**_

He lay in the small hollow behind a rock and cried. Tears trickled down his cheeks. Even after all this time he had no memories, he couldn't even remember his name. Why couldn't he remember?

The sound of shuffling feet echoed through the tunnel and he stiffened.

Shamus Fitzpatrick ambled into the cave a few minutes later. His words were slurred and tumbled over themselves as he sang a little ditty. He was drunk, a perpetual state for the little man, Charlie thought ungraciously. 

"How's me little boy-o today," the little man called into the cave. "Did ya have much luck with the new grapes I procured for ya?"

"You mean stole, don't you Shamus?" the young man retorted. He hated the little man, hated him more than he'd hated anything in the world. Locked in the cave, he couldn't leave, could barely stand up for the chains on his ankles that kept him a slave to the little creature forever.

"Ahhhh, such a harsh words boy-o, you cut me to the heart. I prefer to call it 'acquired through other means'," the ragged little man offered. 

"You don't have a heart, Shamus," he snapped angrily. Wishing he could tear the offending organ from the cretin's chest.

Cackling laughter filled the cave. 

Charlie sighed. Shamus was a nasty little man. Dressed in yellowing rags, his face was beet red, his bulbous nose a mottle shade of purple. Gray green eyes were red and bloodshot and filled with contempt for anything and everything. His grayish red beard fell in twisted strands to the center of his thick chest. The young man wrinkled his nose at the disgusting smell. Bits of food and alcohol were stuck in the strands of the gray beard. Some of it looked green with mold, but Shamus didn't seem to notice, all he cared about was his wine. He drank barrels of the stuff every day. Most of it was stolen, pilfered from the homes and bars in town what he didn't steal he concocted. In the back of the cavern Shamus stored the special stuff. Barrels and barrels of the wine littered the floor. 

Shamus was drunk – he was always drunk. He cackled merrily when he looked at the boy he had stolen, the boy who had found and destroyed his favorite wine. He had been furious when he found the wine spilled into the ground. It hadn't been hard to find the destroyer, to steal him away and make him pay. He chuckled now as he stared at the trembling mass of humanity he kept locked in the cave. 

Today the boy was angry, very angry, but Shamus didn't care. The fear was still there just below the surface. He loved it, loved torturing the boy. The boy had no idea who he was and Shamus wanted to keep it that way. He was Clurichaun and had used his powers to cloud the boys mind, taking away his life, his loves and his hopes of a future. The nasty little man lived for the moment without a care for anyone or anything except his precious drink. 

In a drunken stupor, he had found his precious wine spilled across the ground that day. The ornate barrel, given to him by his Da, was gone. His wine was all he thought about, dreamed about. He didn't think about Charlie or the dreams the boy might have, he only knew the boy had ruined his wine and that was enough for him. 

On that fateful day, he'd seen them playing in the meadow, the boy held the broken barrel under his arm. A red haze of anger welled in the surly creature's heart. He wanted his wine. He wanted his barrel. Then his devious little mind saw something else; a slave to punish for all time, a slave to make his wine. Rubbing his hands together in glee, he dropped his nose to the ground and followed the trail. 

Charlie's mom's car sat alone under a big tree waiting for brother and sister to return. Shamus didn't know much about cars but he was going to fix this one good. He crawled beneath the sedan and started chewing on wires. Brake fluid touched his tongue and he spit the vile liquid out and chortled in glee as he pulled the tube apart. Transmission fluid came next, he would have continued but he heard the boys laughing voice as they came through the trees. He climbed in through the partially open window and crawled behind the seat. He didn't have to hide, his magic kept him hidden from prying eyes. Unless they knew what to look for, the Clurichaun was invisible to searching eyes.

When the engine started up, he waited, knowing the car would die soon and he would have his slave. Thoughts of the little girl never entered his mind; he didn't want her. She meant nothing to him.

When the car continued to pick up speed down the road, the little man grew angry. He felt the car shift and turn before gathering speed once more.

Charlie turned the corner out of the park and onto the main road. The car sped up when disaster struck.

Shamus grew impatient. Leaping up, he growled angrily and grabbed the steering wheel from the boy's hands. 

Charlie fought against the unseen pull of the wheel for control. The car skidded sideways and his foot immediately hit the brakes. However, the lack of break fluid left them unresponsive and the pedal hit the floor. The car kept going and Charlie screamed in terror, "Hold on Angie!" 

Wide-eyed the little girl stared at her brother in shocked surprise.

Shamus wanted his revenge, he wanted his slave, when the boy fought he pulled back his magic and let the boy see what he was facing. That was when Charlie panicked and eased his hold on the steering wheel. The car swerved left, then right across the road as the Clurichaun spun the wheel.

"Charlie!" a little voice screamed.

The boy heard his sister's cry and frantically grabbed for the steering wheel once more, but it was too late. A front tire blew and the car flipped over tumbling down the embankment. The car came to a crashing halt as it wrapped around a huge tree. 

Dazed, Charlie looked across the car to see his little sister; her eyes were wide with fright, or was it something else? Blood dripped from a cut on the side of her head and he prayed that was the worst of her injuries just before he lost consciousness.

Shamus chuckled in glee, the boy was alive and he would keep him that way. Kicking at the door the little man chewed away the seatbelt that kept the boy pinned in the car. When the last strand fell away, Charlie's limp body fell out the door taking the Clurichaun with him. They tumbled to the ground, Shamus swearing loudly as the crawled from beneath Charlie's body. Grabbing the boy by the arm, he dragged him into the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind.

Hours later, Charlie woke with his leg shackled to the wall and no memory. He cleaned his cuts and bruises and cried himself to sleep. In the beginning Shamus enjoyed torturing the boy, giving him only enough food to survive, beating him needlessly because it gave the little creature pleasure. Charlie did survive; most days he hid the anger growing inside him. He hid the hatred for the little man who had stolen his life. 

In the months since he'd awakened Charlie had changed. The fun loving, rainbow-chasing boy was gone, replaced by a hardened man, one who had nothing to live for. One day, he would remember, of that he was certain. When that day came, he would pay Shamus back for all the hurt he had inflicted.

There were times when he couldn't remember how long he'd been there chained against the wall. One day ran into another. In the cave, there was no night or day to help him only the dank musty darkness surrounded him. 

Many nights he cried himself to sleep. Why couldn't he remember?

Charlie lay down on the pile of rags that were his bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep wanting desperately to dream. Even if he couldn't remember his name, he could dream. They were the one bright light in his dark world. He dreamed of a girl, her face hazy but he knew her, somehow he knew her. In the past, she had meant a lot to him, but that was all gone now, but he still dreamed of her. He sighed and closed his eyes. Sleep gathered him close, washing away the pain.

In the darkness, she came to him, filling his mind with love and laughter. She sang sweet melodies that eased his sorrow and healed his wounded heart. He would survive, she whispered softly.

_**Another chap down, please R & R for me. Have a good one - another chappie soon.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Here's the next chapter for all to read and I hope enjoy. Hope you had a great weekend and will take a minute or two to review my little offering. I appreicate all of your comments and look forward to hearing from you. Huggers and big thanks to Jackfan2 - the bestest of Beta's, you rock!!**_

Disclaimers go here: You know the deal and so do I, but rich and famous would be nice too!

_**AAU 4Things go Missing**_

Walking out the door Sam checked the knob making sure it was locked. Leaning down his fingers roamed through a patch of clover hunting for something.

"What are you doing," Dean snapped quizzically

"Looking for a four leaf clover," Sam answered.

"And why are you doing that," Dean replied?

"Dad's journal said it will nullify a Leprechaun's magic if you press it against their skin. Clurichaun's are close cousins so it should work on them as well," Sam replied.

"Great," Dean grumbled. "Now I'm expected to dig in the dirt looking for weeds," he growled. "Forget it Sammy, ain't gonna happen!"

Sam stood, a mulish expression on his face. Dean had agreed to this hunt but was already being a jerk about it. Resigned he stood asking, "Where are we going to start?"

Dean turned a smirking smile on his brother and walked away. "You hungry Sam, I'm starving, first we eat then we hunt."

"I swear Dean you must have a tape worm. All you do is eat," Sam grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a growing boy Sammy. Besides I'm tired of greasy burgers and cold fries," he admitted reluctantly. "I found this great restaurant with home cooked food," he sighed happily. "I'm gonna have steak, corn, baked potato and apple pie with ice cream."

Beneath his breath Sam rumbled at his brother, "Dude, it's a wonder you don't look like a blimp, apple pie and ice cream – what next, M & M's, jelly beans and chocolate chip cookies?"

"I'm thinking snickerdoodles," Dean shot back unperturbed. He had less than a year to enjoy the spices of life and he was going to make the most of it.

"Snickerdoodles," groaning Sam stepped to his brother's side as they turned the corner into the restaurant.

The place was hopping; the counter was lined with big men wearing baseball caps. In Sam's eyes, they looked like truckers and truckers usually knew the best places to eat, so maybe Dean wasn't wrong this time.

They found a corner table and both hunters sat with the backs to the wall, surveying the eclectic crowd gathered in the restaurant. Near the front, three tables had been pulled together and twelve rowdy kids dressed in baseball uniforms sat munching on a couple of large gourmet pizzas. Several of the parents hovered around the kids making sure they were happy and content. It was a homey picture and the hunters sighed, hearts thumping in their chests for the things they had lost over the years.

Both men were abruptly brought back down to earth when a smiling, rosy-cheeked waitress strode up to their table. Dean caught sight of her nametag, the number fifteen under her name declared proudly to all patrons the years she'd served at this establishment

The boys knew local restaurants; they were good for two things, food and gossip. Waitresses always knew everything that happened in small town like this, and were usually eager to dispense their knowledge. So after ordering, Dean waited only long enough for her to return with their drinks before lighting up with a smile and turning on the charm. "Hey Betty, what's with all the posters around town?"

The smile was wiped from the woman's face. Her brows furrowed as she seemed to contemplate what to tell him. She sighed, "That poor woman, her son has been missing for nigh on six months now. No one knows what happened to the boy. Just up and disappeared, it's a damn shame," she whispered. "A damn shame," she whispered again. The waitress shook her head and scurried away, more tables to take care of and not enough hands to help.

"Well, that was helpful," Dean grumbled. It was time to shake things up.

A few minutes later, Betty returned shouldering a heavy tray laden with plates that were piled high with aromatic, piping hot food. The Winchester's stomachs growled appreciatively at the scent, but Dean was still eager to push for more information

"I hear the McKenzie boy was drinking the day he crashed his car," Dean scoffed.

Betty thumped the tray on the table and rounded on Dean like an avenging angel. "That boy never drank a day in his life, what them folks are saying is wrong. Charlie McKenzie was a good boy and a loving son and brother. Just because they found a fresh wine stain on the carpet doesn't mean that boy was drinking. "

The woman was fired up and ready to spill the tale, so Dean prompted. "Did they find anything else in the car?"

"The sheriff and his men found a small wooden barrel, but it was stolen from the police station that night," she whispered again. "There was no evidence that boy had been drinking. Charlie McKenzie loved his sister; he would never have put her in danger that way. Now that boy is missing and..."

Shaking her head in sorrow, she continued as she placed their food in front of them, "Things go missing in this town all the time, we got us a thief, but no one can figure out who it is."

"What kinds of things go missing," Sam asked curiously?

"Well, Mr. Michaels over there," the waitress gestured pointing to a tall thin man sitting across the room, "he lost a big wooden tub about three months ago. Why the hell anyone would want that ole' tub is beyond me. Ms. Winkleman, the sweetest lady you'd ever want to meet, lost her best grapes off her new vines and some fresh raspberries off her prize bush a couple of weeks ago. Poor Billy Martin, god love him, lost a case of beer while he was driving home from the store. Someone swiped it right out of his truck. This restaurant looses all kinds of things especially sugar. I can't figure out what someone would want with fifty pounds of sugar. Lordy," she grumbled walking away.

"Well, guess we don't have to make a trip to the police station since the barrel's gone," Sam offered helpfully.

Dean stared across the room, his mind somewhere else before he spoke, "Wonder if we can get a look at the police report."

Sam groaned, "Dean, that place is manned 24/7."

"Well, you're going to have to be damn careful you don't get caught then," the hunter smirked.

Sam knew it was useless to argue, glaring at his brother he saw a cocky smile flash across his face. Narrowing his gaze he knew Dean was up to something, he just couldn't figure out what – yet!

"Diversion," he grumbled?

"Of course," Dean countered.

Sam groaned softly and rolled his eyes; his brother was going to get him arrested for breaking and entering a police station no less.

_**I know this chappie is a little short - but another one is coming up day after tomorrow. The story is nearly finished so you won't have long to wait. Huggers, thanks for reading, hope you'll take a few minutes and review for me. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Here is another chapter. I hope you are still enjoying the story. Whumpage is coming up soon.**_

_**AAU 5Poetry and Poems**_

Sam strolled into the Police Station surprised to find the front desk, hell the whole front office empty. He could hear voices coming from a room down the hallway but the rest of the place was empty.

Something wasn't right and it sent chills down his back. Dean hadn't even created his diversion yet – or had he?

Taking a deep breath he quickly made his way down the hall. The records room was three doors down on the left and the door was wide open. Grumbling beneath his breath Sam quickly assessed the filing system and opened the draw marked K thru P under Active Cases. That's where his luck ran out. The file marked "McKenzie" was empty. More than likely some detective had it on his desk. Sam was not about to go rifling through desks at a police station.

"Hi Sam!"

The voice from behind made him jump. He spun a full one eighty only to sigh in relief at the familiar face of the young girl from the park.

After a cautious glance around, his eyes settled back on the little girl, "Angela, what are you doing here?"

Turning, she pointed to an office down the hall, "My mom comes here all the time. She likes to keep the police on their toes so they won't close Charlie's file." Eyeing him appraisingly for a moment, she then asked, "Did you come to talk to the police about Charlie?"

"Something like that," he mumbled. "I, uh I wanted to look at Charlie's file. I thought maybe it would help me find him."

Angela stepped past him and pointed to a desk a few feet away. "Officer Daltry has it on her desk. She's the detective assigned to Charlie's case."

"Thanks Angela," Sam whispered. He stood and hurried across the room and quickly leafed through the file. Satisfied that he had the right documents, he spied a copy machine in the corner and quickly made copies of the contents.

Angela strode beside him watching and waiting as he worked. When Sam was almost done she spoke again. "My mom is getting ready to leave. All the police are coming back now."

Gathering the papers, he stuffed them back into the folder and placed it back on Officer Daltry's desk exactly where he'd found it.

"Bye Sam," Angela whispered as he sped out the door toward the Impala. "Please be careful," she whispered on a sigh!

Rushing through the station Sam sped down the steps to the waiting Impala. Opening the car door he heard the rush of footsteps, followed shortly by blaring sirens and screeching tires as several police cars raced out of the garage and down the road.

"Jeez Sam," A startled Dean spun to face the passenger door in surprise. "What are you, Houdini? I though you were going to wait for my diversion."

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I did wait. Your diversion worked perfectly."

The older hunter glared at his brother and stared at the cars flying down the road – lights and sirens blazing. The phone was still warm in his hand. The call had gone out only a minute ago. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw a woman, a young girl at her heels, walk out of the police station. Confusion was written on his handsome face as he watched them walk down the street.

If he hadn't read the article on line, he wouldn't have believed what he was seeing.

The little girl raised her hand and waved. Dean smiled, his hand automatically returning the gesture.

Leaning back in his seat, he looked at his brother, who was busily rifling through the pilfered papers, then back at the retreating mother and daughter. What the hell was going on? He vowed silently to get to the bottom of this puzzle.

Turning his attention back to Sam, he took the file from his brother's hands ignoring his yelp of protest. "Anything interesting in here," he asked slyly.

"I don't know Dean; I didn't get a chance to look at it before you grabbed it out of my hands."

"Well if you weren't so damn slow…," his voice trailed off. Beneath the surly words a smirking smile tilted the hunter's lips. He loved baiting his brother and it was so easy to do.

Rifling through the paperwork and photo's, Dean whistled when he found the pictures of the car and the wooden barrel. "What do ya think of this Sammy," he asked holding the picture up for his brother to see.

"Runes," Sam whispered in awe as he studied the picture. "These are magical runes Dean."

"Duh," the hunter mumbled beneath his breath. "Translate," Dean snapped.

Sam brought his head up his brows furrowed in concentration. "I need my computer," he growled back. "Latin I know – old Celtic runes – not so much."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam leaned back in his chair and closed the computer in disgust, "Well that was a waste of time," he muttered.

"What," Dean queried?

"The runes on the barrel are some kind of poem – a blessing maybe. It says something about a rainbow and rain. I'll need a little more time to figure it out!"

Crossing the room to stand at his brother's shoulder, Dean thumped his brother's shoulder. "Well, at least tell me what you think it says."

"I told you, now go away and let me finish," Sam snapped.

"Don't get your panties in a wad college boy," Dean growled back as he flopped onto the edge of the bed and waited.

Sam spent a few more minutes punching at the keyboard on his computer. "The line is from an Irish Blessing, nothing unusual nothing magical. It says:

_**May there always be work for your hands to do; **_

_**May your purse always hold a coin or two; **_

_**May the sun always shine on your windowpane; **_

_**May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain; **_

_**May the hand of a friend always be near you; **_

_**May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you!**_

"Well that was a complete waste of time," Dean grumbled. "Come on Sammy – grab your gear we're going to the park! Time for some real investigation."

-o-o-o-o-o-

_**I know some of you may be confused about Dean's confusion when he saw the mother and daughter come out of the police station, but I promise all confusion will be resolved in later chapters. Is that enough confusion for you! LOL**_

_**What do you think - time for some whumpage (is that a real word) I think so! **_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Whumpage to follow!!_**

**_AAU 6 Rainbows but no Lollipops_**

Dean parked the Impala in the shade of a large pine tree. Stepping out he opened the trunk and sifted through the myriad of tools and weapons stashed in the hidden compartment.

The older hunter quietly ran the information Sam had researched around in his head. The Clurichaun had to be somewhere in the park. Finding the little creature was going to require they hike around in a state park where they were likely to encounter other civilians. That being the case, as much as he wanted to, they dare not take shotguns, as their presence would attract undue attention. Instead, he opted for packing light, hoping he wouldn't regret the decision later. Checking weapons and ammunition, he slid the Glock into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back and pulled his shirt out to cover it. A knife went into the slot on the outside of his right boot.

Eyeing his brother he nodded in satisfaction at the weapons Sam tucked into place.

Pulling a map out Dean spread it across the trunk. His fingers traced the outline of the meadow. A line of hills bordered one side of the open field. "You take the northwest end," he said pointing to the map. "I'll take northeast."

"Got it," Sam affirmed. They had discussed the plan earlier, and after a brief reconnaissance mission into the area, they were as ready as they could hope to be. The fact-finding mission had given them a good idea of the terrain; of particular interest were unusual trails and caves, if they existed, as well as anything that didn't fit into the norm of a state park. A Clurichaun definately wasn't normal!

Pulling binoculars out of his pack, Sam felt the first drops of rain. Looking up he saw one of natures more brazen contrasts: The sun was still shining brightly overhead as a dark cloud moved in across the mountains and down into the valley.

The rain soon turned from a light drizzle to a downpour and Dean swore, as he was soon soaked to the skin. Then, five minutes later it was over. The faucet had been turned off. Jeans and t-shirt were stuck to slick skin. The material hid nothing. The hard rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen were etched into the soft material. The slick material also revealed the weapon tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Grumbling, he pulled at the wet material, peeling it away from his skin hoping to hide the gun once again. Swearing loudly when it didn't work.

Across the meadow Sam lifted his head into the air. The cool rain drenched his hair and slid down his neck. He laughed and shook his head sending a misty spray of rain in a wide circle around him. He drew in a deep breath loving the smell of fresh rain as it washed away the dust and dirt.

Slowly the rain faded away and the sky cleared, the clouds slowly moving southeast over the mountains. Walking toward the foothills he stopped, as the air around him grew hazy. Looking up his eyes widened at the kaleidoscope of colors that surrounded him. "What the hell," he mumbled beneath his breath.

Sam turned and held out his hand, a sparkle of colors - reds, blues, greens and purples - fell through his fingers. His eyes sought his brother across the field. "Dean!" he yelled at the top of his lungs hoping his brother could hear him.

The garbled sound of Sam's voice floated across the valley and Dean turned and stopped dead in his tracks. In awe, he stared at the sight of his brother bathed in a rainbow of color. "Shit," he muttered quietly, "a damn rainbow." Cupping his hands he yelled across the distance, "Sam, don't move!"

The young hunter sucked in a breath when he realized what was happening. He didn't have to hear his brother's words to know what he saying. Utterly still, he scanned the ground around him; without moving his feet, Sam twisted and found what he was looking for. A small barrel darkened by age lay at his feet. A myriad of runes were etched in gold along one end of the barrel. Carefully he stepped back away from the barrel and sighed in relief.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Shamus heard the rain pelting against the ground outside the cave. On spindly legs he rushed outside to stand guard over his treasure. The wine was an offering to the Gods, as long as he kept a barrel of wine at the end of the rainbow his magic would never fade, his horde of wine and ale would grow.

Through the haze of alcohol he watched, his vision cloudy, his mind warped by eons of drink. Then, when the rainbow fell across the man standing in the field, he shrieked. A harsh guttural squeal of anger cut through the quiet hillside. Fists balled in rage, the incensed Clurichaun whispered a word of power. Unseen by human eyes he streaked down the hill and attacked without warning. A hard fist caught the man in the stomach and he folded over, the wind rushing from his lungs.

Still on his feet, Sam gasped in pain and stumbled backward, ever mindful of the wooden barrel at his feet. The young hunter leaped backward up and over the barrel, turning to maintain his balance.

Shamus didn't see the human's movement, or the fact that he was doing his best to avoid the wine barrel. Now, with the man's back to him, he simply lowered his head and charged.

The blow caught Sam in the lower back and he flew forward. Pain thundered through the hunter. The breath flew from his lungs as his body pitched forward. Landing spread eagle, the intricately designed wooden barrel shattered beneath him. Wine soaked his shirt and spilled onto the ground. He rolled away and scrambled backward away from the barrel and out of the rainbow.

From his place across the field, Dean watched in confusion. When Sam stumbled and went down, the elder hunter swore beneath his breath and took off at a run. '_What the hell_,' he mumbled.

Seeing Sam's body jerk forward he knew beyond a doubt that his brother was under attack. At a full run, he yelled and waived his arms, desperately attempting to catch the attackers' attention. What ever was out there, what ever had attacked Sam was invisible – maybe he couldn't see it, but he knew it was there.

At the sight of his wine spilling into the earth, Shamus came to a dead halt his eyes wide with hurt confusion. He stared in shock at the wreckage of his most prized possession. A gift from his Da, the barrel he'd been given on the day he'd first worked his magic. This time the barrel was shattered beyond repair. His gift to the gods was gone, all because of a human.

A red haze of anger took over. The Clurichaun leaped forward strattling Sam's chest. Balled fists, magically enhanced, flew in rapid succession smashing into Sam's jaw. In a furious rage, Shamus forgot to hold on to his magic. The glamour that hid him from prying eyes fell away leaving him visible and exposed.

Dean sucked in an angry breath. Sam was putting up a good fight but the little shit was pummeling his brother and that pissed the warrior off. Now with a visible target, he pulled the Glock, lifted it and considered his options in rapid-fire succession. Even at a run the hunter was a deadly shot, but Dean knew at this distance the bullet would be spent before it hit Sam's attacker. Still, he hoped it would at least deter the assailant.

Raising the barrel, he aimed and squeezed the trigger praying the bullet would hit its mark. "Sammy!" he screamed across the distance.

Sam twisted away, barely avoiding the third blow. The young hunter's fist came around and struck Shamus across the shoulder, knocking him sideways.

Shocked by the blow, Shamus rolled and jumped to his feet. Snarling in rage, he drew back his leg. All his frustration went into the blow as he kicked out catching Sam in the stomach.

Muscles tore and bone's bruised. The hunter cried out as the pain seared through him.

Seconds later the crack of a weapon shattered the eerie silence of the little meadow. The bullet sizzled across the distance. It was nearly spent when it hit the Clurichaun in the leg. Shamus howled in pain and hopped backward his left calf running red with blood. Spinning to face his attacker, Shamus saw a human male running toward him.

Dean fired again, but the Clurichaun was prepared this time. With a snap of his fingers he threw up a wall. It was just in time, he flinched when the bullet struck the wall, dead center of his forehead. How dare this puny human attack him!

Furious now, the Clurichaun raised his hands palm outward, growling deep in his throat, Shamus spat out a single word. It was a kill word dark and deadly. Gathering the power, a small glow spun with suppressed energy in his outstretched hand. Power crackled around him; with a gleeful howl he pushed the energy outward.

Dean's eyes widened when he saw the wall of energy roaring toward him. He swore and skidded to a halt before dropping to the ground. On instinct, he curled into a ball, praying the energy would pass over him.

It was to no avail, however. The deadly energy slammed into him. It sent him tumbling sideways. The Glock flew from his hand. The raging energy twisted the hard metal and tore it apart, the bullets inside melted before exploding sending shards of hot metal flying. Dean gasped as the shrapnel tore through his clothes and ripped at the skin beneath.

The wall of energy swept up everything in its path. Stick, rocks and hunter spun out of control. He threw up his hands trying desperately to protect himself, but the wild thrashing energy tore at him. A rock slammed into his arm, another into his leg. Sticks and twigs sliced through his clothes tearing at the flesh below. Seconds passed as he tumbled and bounced across the hard ground. Thoughts of Sam, concern for his brother's safety flitted through his mind. Then, a hot piece of metal from the Glock slammed into the side of his head. Darkness closed in and all thoughts fled.

The wall of energy slowly dissipated. It's captive was dropped unceremoniously nearly a hundred feet away from where he'd started. Barely conscious, Dean lay on his back; his breath coming in slow ragged gasps. He laid motionless, his mind numb, unable to handle the massive battering his body had sustained. A long slice across his brow bled freely. Trembling hands were scraped and bloody as was the rest of him. His shirt and jeans were tattered rags. The hunter struggled to stay conscious, but the searing pain dragged him down. Consciousness fled and darkness reigned.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A hundred feet away Shamus watched with pleasure as the hated human tumbled. He knew the man was dead – his magic had never failed him before.

However, for once luck had favored the fallen hunter; the Clurichaun was drunk. A hundred years ago the kill word he'd used would have been at full power. It would indeed have torn the intended victim apart in seconds. Thankfully, Shamus was old and had slurred the word, taking the edge off the massive blast. The power didn't kill, but the massive wall of energy had done a great deal of damage.

Behind the Clurichaun, Sam yelled his brother's name in despair, capturing Shamus' attention once more. Reaching for the .38 strapped to his ankle Sam wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow the crazed little creature delivered.

With the glamour back in place hiding him and his new captive, Shamus whispered and swung his hand toward Sam's head. A softball sized rock flew from its resting place on the valley floor and slammed into the side of the young hunter's head.

Darkness surrounded him, dragging him down. His brother's name on his lips, Sam tumbled into a dark abyss.

Shamus limped over to stand beside the young hunter, his face a twisted mask of hatred as he stared down into his captive's face. Hurt to the very core by the loss of his wine and the barrel his Da had gifted him, he cried harsh gut wrenching tears. He hadn't wanted to put his da's barrel in the field but it was tradition – the magic demanded it. If the wine was good his command of the elements would be granted, his magic would grow stronger. Now the barrel was shattered his best wine soaking quickly into the ground.

Grumbling beneath is breath, the Clurichaun dammed all humans for their greed. Twice in six months the humans had found his treasure. It was time to leave; the humans were too close, it was time to find a new home in the depth of the mountains. Looking down, a sneering smile crossed the cracked purple lips. Cackling gleefully he whispered his hatred into the wind, "I will make ya suffer fer destroying me barrel runtling," Shamus promised.

Mumbling beneath his breath Shamus grabbed Sam by the ankle and dragged the unconscious hunter from the field.

Across the grass they went, into the foothills to a small hidden cave a mile away. The battered young hunter was bruised and bloody, his back scraped from the rough treatment. Blood soaked his torn shirt and dripped to the grass and rock. Unaware of his fate, Sam slept on.

Still mumbling, the Clurichaun stomped into the cave ignoring the gasp of surprise from his first captive.

"What have you done Shamus?" the young man cried.

"Shut yer gob, ain't none o'ur business boy-o. Keep ur trap shut or ur'll end up jus like em."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Finally some whumpage! Ok so I left ya with a little cliffie, but the next chapter is coming up soon. Thanks for reading, hope you are still enjoying. Another chappie soon. I hope you will take a minute to tell me how you feel about my story. Huggers all!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**AAU 7Awakenings**_

On the hillside above the meadow, a park ranger stared in horror. From her vantage point it looked like a small tornado had swept across the valley pulling a lone man into its deadly midst. Breaking into a run she swept through the brush and trees, mindless of the scraping limbs tearing at her legs.

At her heels a large gray Irish Wolfhound ran easily. She didn't hear the low growling in the dog's throat nor see the hackles rising high and tight on the dogs back. She was only concerned with reaching the injured man in time.

It took her less than five minutes; still, she prayed she wasn't too late. Pulling a phone from her pocket she pressed two keys and called for help. She kept her eyes glued on the man as he tumbled across the meadow, loosing him when she passed behind a rocky outcropping at the edge of the clearing. Coming around the rocks she saw him, his body splayed out on the grass, a jumble of rocks and twigs surrounded his battered body.

Sending up a small prayer, she only hoped his wild tumble had left him alive and breathing. Sliding to a stop she dropped to her knees beside him, she brushed the debris from his body and got her first good look at the damage. Blood covered him from head to foot, his clothes torn and beneath the shredded fabric, all visible flesh was bruised, his face ghastly pale.

Breath froze in her lungs, "Oh my god," she whispered at the wreckage of the man lying in front of her. Her eyes widened when she saw his chest rise and fall as he labored to breathe. He was alive.

Trained hands gently brushed across his tortured body hunting for the worst of his wounds. It didn't look good, her fingers found broken bones and deep lacerations everywhere she touched. If he was going to live beyond the next few minutes, she had to move fast. Quickly she pulled a first aid kit from her backpack and worked to apply pressure bandages to the worst of the bloody cuts in effort to staunch the flow of blood. A few minutes later she heard the whir of a helicopter as it swooped over the hills and landed in the clearing a few hundred feet behind her.

The rescue team hurried across the clearing, boxes of emergency equipment clutched in their hands as they raced toward her. Fast and efficient they worked and within minutes Dean was lying on a stretcher inside the chopper, head and neck braced in a C collar. An IV hung from a metal clip as the EMT pumped oxygen into his starving lungs. The chopper quickly lifted into the air heading for the nearest trauma center fifteen miles away.

On the ground the Park Ranger, wolfhound at her side, watched the chopper disappear over the horizon. She shook her head and turned to look at the destruction the tornado had wrought. The grass would soon grow back, the flowers once again bloom. Her only hoped was the man she'd found would be as lucky.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A team of trained medical professionals waited on the rooftop of the hospital. They stood ready to rush forward when the chopper landed.

Dean's torn and broken body was pulled form the chopper and rushed off the roof and down to the emergency room.

Long precious moments later he lay on a bed as doctors and nurses moved around him, "What the hell happened?" a young doctor whispered into the chaos as he stared at Dean's ravaged body.

One of the EMT's stepped forward, "Park Ranger said he got caught up in what looked like a tornado."

"Jesus," the doctor whispered. "Let's get him down to X-Ray, prep him for surgery and get an OR ready."

Hours later the doctors and nurses who had worked long and hard to save their patient sighed in relief. The list of injuries was long; concussion, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, a broken collarbone, a broken wrist, bruised ribs and a hundred cuts and bruises, all were stitched and bandaged.

Their patient was lucky to be alive and the trauma team knew his survival had to be a miracle. They didn't know Dean.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The CCU was quiet, only the soft whirring of equipment and the whispered words of the charge nurse broke the hushed silence. A little over twenty hours after facing Shamus, Dean struggled through the darkness back to consciousness something was wrong, terribly wrong. He just couldn't remember what.

Eyelids fluttered open. He called his brother's name, "Sammy," needing to hear his brother's voice. But Sammy didn't answer.

Searing pain exploded through his body when he tried to move. What was wrong, why couldn't he remember? The black abyss closed in around him dragging him into the darkness once again.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In a dark cave tucked into the hills of the state park, a young hunter slowly rose to consciousness. Taking stock of his injuries, he lay motionless on a dirt floor. His head throbbed incessantly and he felt battered and bruised but thankfully he seemed to be all in one piece. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes to a shadowy unfamiliar world. "Dean," he called softly. For a moment silence greeted his words.

An unfamiliar voice broke through the fog. "There's no one here but me," the voice whispered quietly.

Sam shot to a sitting position banging his head on a rocky outcropping in the low roof of the dark cave. "Damn," he groaned. Lifting a shaky hand to his battered head he sank back to the sandy floor. "Who are you? Where the hell am I?"

"Shhhhsh," the voice whispered, "If Shamus hears you he'll come back."

"Shamus?" Sam asked quietly.

"He's a dwarf," Charlie replied, but before he could continue the gravely voice of Shamus broke in.

Ambling across the room, the little man angrily slapped Charlie across the face. The boy fell back as blood trickled down his chin from a split lip.

"I ain't no dwarf boy-o I be a Clurichaun," he replied proudly. "In me homeland we be call the Wee Folk." It was a slur on his heritage to be called a Dwarf and Shamus took his anger out on his captives. Next, he spun to face Sam, a booted foot connecting with the young hunter's knee. "You broke me barrel runt," he slurred. "I'll make ye pay for that, I will."

'Runt,' the young hunter groaned silently as the pain shot through his leg. Maybe when he was five years old but at six foot four Sam was anything but a runt.

Staring at the little Clurichaun, Sam suddenly remembered the encounter in the meadow. The explosion of color that had surrounded him, his brother's voice urging him to remain still, and the subsequent attack. Anger rose up inside him and he rose to his knees, "I didn't break the barrel you did," Sam shouted out.

Shamus roared with anger and kicked out again catching Sam in the side. Spluttering angrily he spat the words at his captive, "It wasn't me runtling, you fell on me best barrel and spilt me wine into the dirt!"

"If you hadn't hit me, I wouldn't have fallen and broken your damn barrel," Sam yelled back.

Shamus moved with magical speed and slammed his fist into the young hunter's chin. "Twer you runtling that fell and broke me barrel, YOU," he screamed.

Sam tried to block the quick blows but the Clurichaun was too fast, his magic aiding him in the assault.

Fist flew, punching Sam several more times leaving his captive battered and gasping for breath. "I'll make ya pay runtling," the dirty little creature mumbled. It was time to drink away his sorrow. Kicking Sam in the back one last time he grumbled and groaned as he disappeared into the dark recesses at the back of the cave.

The young hunter lay bruised and bloody when Shamus finally walked away.

On the ground Sam groaned and lay still. Slowly, the rippling pain eased. A sob broke from his throat as he whispered his brother's name, "Dean," he called softly.

Images of his brother flashed through his mind. The memories were dark and hazy but he remembered the sudden flare of energy that had washed over him. The energy had become a powerful storm that swept across the meadow toward his brother, lifting him up and tossing him across the ground. A silent sob tore from his body at the picture he held in his mind - Dean flying through the air was the last thing he could remember.

A whimpering sound from close beside him broke through Sam's misery.

A few feet away a young man lay curled into a ball, his eyes widewith fear. The boy was afraid. Many times he'd felt Shamus's anger turned his way. The welts on his body were numerous, and yet the scars he bore were not just physical. Shamus had come close to breaking him.

Anger rolled inside the young hunter. Heat flared in his gut at the damage the Clurichaun had inflicted on an innocent young man.

Curling upward his hands reached for the ceiling making sure his head didn't strike the hard rock a second time. He twisted onto his knees and heard the rattling of chains as he struggled to move. He swore under his breath when he saw the iron manacles encircling his ankles. Ignoring them for the moment, he crawled close to the boy and put his arm on his shoulder, calling him from the darkness. "Charlie," he called softly.

Charlie didn't respond, fearful that Shamus would overhear. He knew if he stayed still the evil little man would grow weary and wander away. Seconds passed and he heard the shuffling footsteps grow softer before disappearing into the depths of the cave. An unfamiliar voice broke through the fear.

"Charlie," Sam called again.

The soft touch on his arm and unfamiliar voice brought the boys head up, his eyes widened as he stared at the stranger beside him.

"Do you know me, is that my name?" Charlie asked softly his body slowly relaxing as he uncurled and tried to sit up.

Swearing beneath his breath he looked at the young man. "Yeah," he whispered. "Your name is Charlie."

"I can't remember," the tired voice cracked. Seconds later, he whispered his name softly, then stronger he whispered his name again. "Charlie… yes, yes," he whispered fiercely "My name is Charlie"

"Do you remember anything else? How you got here?" Sam asked urgently.

Eyes wide, his fingers curled and uncurled as he looked at the hunter. "No," the boy cried. "I don't remember anything before I came here. Shamus found me, said my parents threw me away. That they didn't want me anymore."

Sam eyes snapped angrily. The little creature was mad. "He didn't find you Charlie, he kidnapped you," the young hunter whispered fiercely. "Your family loves you, they are looking for you."

Bleak eyes looked up, a ray of hope quickly extinguished. "He'll never let us go," Charlie whispered. "I haven't been out of this cave since the day I woke up. The chains are too strong."

A sudden thought occurred and Sam reached in his pocket surprised when his fingers found his cell phone intact. Speed dialing his brother's number he waited for the answer that never came. The phone rang twice. "Dean," he whispered choking down the fear when he heard his brother's usual greeting on the other end when his voicemail activated.

Sam spoke softly looking around to make sure Shamus wasn't in the vicinity. "Dean, I hope you're ok. I don't know where I am, but I found Charlie…," only silence greeted his words. "You'd better not be dead, ya big jerk," he growled before the line went dead there was so much more he wanted to say. Swearing softly he stared at the phone in his hand. Praying his brother would get the message.

A sharp intake of breath was all Sam heard before the phone in hand went flying across the cave. Shamus was back.

From the back of the cave Shamus heard the quiet whispers. Moving on magically silent feet he crept toward the sound and listened. Seeing the phone the little creature's temper boiled over. Streaking across the cave he slammed into Sam and kicked the phone out of his hand. Furiously he dashed across the cave and stomped on it until the plastic and metal was a crumpled mess. When that was done he dashed back to face Sam. Screaming in rage he attacked the young hunter once again. Fists and feet flew kicking and punching until Sam lay still.

Sam did what he could to protect himself. Shackled to the wall he was no match for the furious little Clurichaun. He wrapped his arms around his head and curled into a ball doing what he could to shield his stomach from the vicious blows. Pain coursed through his body, as the creature kicked and punched in a dazzling display of speed. He could barely breathe as the darkness of unconsciousness closed in around him. One sharp blow to the side of his head sent him spiraling into the abyss.

Growling beneath his breath the furious Clurichaun wondered if this human was going to be more trouble than he was worth. With a final kick to his captive's back he turned and walked back to his horde, hidden in the back of the cave.

In the clearing a few miles away the ring of a phone broke the quiet stillness of the meadow. Torn from Dean's pocket the phone laid buried in a pile of rubble. The sound of a Deep Purples' _**Smoke on the Water**_ echoed eerily in the quiet valley.

Sitting on the hillside above the valley, a dark gray shape howled her misery into the wind, her voice mirroring the ringing tones of the fallen phone.

Sighing heavily when the sound died away, the large gray Irish wolfhound stood and shook the dirt from her wiry coat. Change was in the air, she could feel it, smell it, and taste it. The time for retribution had come!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**I beat them up pretty bad in the previous chap, but Sam did what he set out to do and find Charlie. Not exactly the way he planned. **_

_**I hope you will take the time to leave me some feedback. Motivation is the key to keep the mind and fingers moving, huggers all and thanks for reading!!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**AAU 8 Restrained**_

It was another forty-eight hours before Dean regained consciousness. Eyes fluttered slowly open. Need surfaced and again he called his brother's name. The lack of response made his stomach clenched in fear. The fear forced awareness and with it the sound of quietly beeping monitors and the soft scent of disinfectant assaulted reawakened senses.

'Where the hell…?' he wondered in confusion. A hospital; it had to be a hospital. As the fog cleared, the room swam into focus and his mind slowly relayed what he saw: white washed walls, equipment arrayed around the room, wires intrusively attached to skin, an empty chair in the corner. The fear returned. "Sam," he called softly.

Fruitlessly he struggled to sit up, he called Sam's name, louder this time. The pain tore through him and he gasped in agony. Breathless, he fell back against the pillow, teeth gritted against the onslaught. His breath came in short ragged gasps as he rode out the wave of agony. It was long moments before the pain subsided.

A monitor beeped loudly and he groaned as the sound tore through his aching head. Seconds later the door flew open and the nurse rushed in. Once bitten was enough for him so he lay perfectly motionless and watched through bleary eyes as she fussed around him.

"Lie still," she warned. "I'm glad you're finally awake, we were beginning to worry."

"How long?" he croaked.

"Three days," she told him cautiously watching as his eyes widened in surprise. Some people had a hard time dealing with the facts when they realized they'd lost three days.

"Three days," he echoed softly. He swallowed with difficulty before continuing, "Is Sam here?" his voice cracked.

"Sam," she whispered. "No there's no one named Sam here."

His heart thumped in his chest. "My brother, is my brother here?"

"I'm sorry, No, your brother isn't here," she whispered. Checking the leads that connected his heart to the monitors she explained how he got to the hospital. "One of the park rangers found you. She said you got caught up in a small tornado. Which is really unusual, we never get tornados here in the mountains," she mussed softly. "Was your brother there with you? I'll call the park and tell them to start looking for him."

"Yes," Dean croaked, "Sam's out there, you have to find him." He moved restlessly beneath the sheets unmindful of the pain that seared through his body. "I have to find him," he stated anxiously.

"Please you must lie still, you'll only injure yourself further. I'll call the Park Rangers and get them searching for your brother."

Dean paid no attention to the nurse. He pushed at the covers and tried to swing his legs off the bed. "I have to find Sam," he cried.

Pressing a button on one of the monitors she called the nurses station, "Get the doctor in here now," she ordered. "Lie still sir," she ordered pushing him back to the bed as the door opened behind her.

Even injured Dean was a force to be reckoned with. Adrenalin pumped through his system lending him strength. It took the doctor and two nursed to get him back into bed. He fought them the whole way. A third nurse came rushing into the room a syringe in her hand. Seconds later, the potent sedative was coursing through his blood stream.

"No, please!" he shouted. "I have to find him, I have to find my brother!" he yelled brokenly. Suddenly, vision grew cloudy and his voice trailed off. Weakly, he clutched at the nurses arm, willing her to understand. "No…gotta find Sam," he whispered.

The drug relentlessly did its work and though he fought the darkness that hovered, in the end it was to no avail and he slipped quietly into a deep unwelcome slumber.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In a small cave eighteen miles away, a young hunter came suddenly awake. "Dean," he whispered softly. A pain not his own, tore through his mind and he gasped at the hazy picture that formed there. Fleetingly, he saw his brother injured and struggling. The vision was abruptly cut off leaving him breathless.

Frantically he reached for the chains and yanked hard wanting, needing to break free. Dean was hurt, he had to get away he had to find him.

Twenty minutes later, exhausted and unsuccessful, he gave up and sank back to the sand. His ankles were bloody, the palm of his hands torn and scraped from the harsh metal.

Tears of frustration coursed down his cheeks. Defeated, he dropped slowly to the sandy ground, his mind running through a thousand scenarios, none of them easing his pain. Dean would be ok, he told himself. Dean was always ok. 'Please be ok,' he cried silently. He knew something had happened in the meadow after he fell.

He had seen Dean running toward him. Shamus had used some kind of magical energy. He remembered the world had gone hazy as a wall of shimmering light tore across the field toward his brother and lifted him into the air. Then nothing. It was all a blank after that, until he had awakened in the little cave with Charlie beside him.

Charlie looked at his new friend, a sense of hopelessness residing deep within him. Fingers clenched and unclenched as he watched, not knowing what to say or do to help his new friend, or himself, for that matter. Shamus would never let them go. Never!

Sam curled into a ball. Three days he suffered at the hands of the tiny Clurichaun. Three days of misery. He'd learned quickly, and painfully, that what Shamus wanted – Shamus got. Any show of defiance was instantly met with retribution in the form of flying fists and feet.

At first the young hunter had tried to fight. Once or twice he'd even managed to land a blow. However, Sam soon learned that his rebellion only angered the Clurichaun further.

Rolling over, he stretched his long legs wincing as bruised and battered muscles made themselves known. Exhaustion nagged at him, as did hunger. Shamus gave them only enough food to keep them from starving. If not for the cool, clear stream running through the cave he didn't know how he would survive – or how Charlie had survived under the nasty creature's thumb for six months.

While physical pain was a constant companion for the young hunter, he realized that the ache in his heart was almost unbearable. It was then, as he lay there in the dank sand, that he came to a decision; he'd survive, no matter what. For Dean. He had to get away, he had to find his brother.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Ok, Another chap down the next one soon to follow. Huggers, have a great Supernatural kinda day. **_

_**I'm going out of town for a couple of days and will post prolly again thursday night. **_


	9. Chapter 9

_**AAU 9Searching**_

Dean woke slowly. His awareness fuzzy, his mouth filled with a chalky mush. He hated that taste. He'd been drugged. The memory came back in a rush. Sam was missing. Hours had passed, how many he didn't know, too many he screamed silently.

Slowly he tried to sit up_**what the hell?**_ Restraints bound his wrists securely to the bed "Shit…," he growled deep in his throat and lay back. The pounding in his skull was as relentless as the frustration of his current predicament, and the rest of him didn't feel much better.

Opting for more limited movement, he lifted his head but pain spiked and he winced, air rushed from his lungs at the intensity of it all. Not such a good idea after all. So he lay flat fighting through what felt like a white-hot poker jabbing through his forehead, he took stock of his injuries; bruised – maybe cracked ribs seemed to be only the beginning. Left hand was encased in plaster – okay, something broken. _**Damn it**_ The other hand was wrapped in a thick bandage. _**What the hell?**_ Dean groaned realizing he must look like he'd been through a meat grinder, 'cause he sure as hell felt like it. In his current condition he wouldn't be any use to Sam. It didn't matter. He wouldn't let his own injuries stop him from finding his brother.

The door hissed open and he gingerly turned to see a man wearing the usual white lab coat, stethoscope strung around his neck walk into the room. The doc was younger than he'd expected, handsome in a geeky sort of way, with sandy brown hair and dark chocolate eyes behind round spectacles. His mind still a bit on the fuzzy side, Dean watched as he crossed the room.

Reaching the bed the doctor busily went about checking Dean's IV before saying, "I'm glad you're finally awake. How are you feeling?"

Masking his frustration, Dean kept his anger in check as he spoke, "Are these really necessary?" His voice was deceptively calm as he lifted his hands and rattled the bedrail where the restraints were attached.

"You were badly injured when they brought you in," the doctor replied. "You became quite unruly when you first awakened, I couldn't take the chance that you'd re-injure yourself. I know you'll find it hard to believe but it's for your own good."

Dean snorted in disgust, but held his wayward tongue in check. Antagonizing the doctor would get him nowhere. "Am I going to live Doc?"

The young physician cracked a smile. "Ah yes, you were pretty out of it when I first introduced myself; I'm Doctor Jason Carter. I'd shake your hand but…"

Dean looked incredulously at the physician, eyes wide both in disbelief and rage. If he wasn't tied to the bed or didn't hurt so damn much he would have shaken the man's hand and broken ever bone in it, just for good measure!

"Great," he settled for a snarl and closed his eyes to the pain. "All the doctors in the world and I get the one with a warped sense of humor."

Embarrassed at his own misstep, Jason coughed, cleared his throat and continued. "And you are Mr. …," the doctor paused searching the chart. His brows furrowed in confusion before looking at his patient. "I'm afraid we didn't have any way to identify you. We have you listed here as a John Doe."

Dean smirked, "It's Jones, Dean Jones."

Relieved that the recent head trauma hadn't caused memory loss, the doctor sighed. "Yes Mr. Jones, you're going to live, but you need to take it easy for a few weeks. Broken bones don't heal overnight. I'm going to lay it out straight. You hit your head pretty hard. The headaches will be bad for a couple of weeks maybe longer." The doctor paused "Do you remember what happened out there?"

The hunter went quiet as he tried desperately to pull the memories from his mind. Hell he couldn't even remember what town he was in. Panic nearly overwhelmed him. The pallor of his skin went even whiter if that was at all possible.

"I can't…" a choking breath stopped him. Falling back to the pillow he rattled the restraints once more in frustration. "I can't remember anything," he cried softly.

"Calm yourself Mr. Jones; it's not unusual to lose the memories of such a horrific trauma. Given time the memories usually return."

Ignoring the 'usually comment Dean growled beneath his breath. "Where's my brother? Is he here?" he asked quickly – though he already knew the answer. Sam was missing.

"I'm sorry," the doctor whispered cautiously ready to call for help if his patient reacted badly to the news. "Your brother wasn't with you. Search and rescue teams are combing the area now. They'll do everything they can to find him Mr. Jones."

Dean laid his head back and closed his eyes listening to the doctor drone on. He would wait and bide his time. He needed to find Sam and he couldn't do it like this. If only he could remember what happened. The harder he tried the more vicious the headache became. All he needed was a couple of days to get his strength back.

"Please take these off," he pleaded. Although the room was big and airy Dean couldn't stand the thought of being tied down. He hated it, feared it, almost as much as he hated and feared flying. "Please," he whispered urgently.

Jason Carter saw the panic in his patient's eyes. He knew some people couldn't stand being restrained. "Promise me you won't try to get up."

Dean eyed him slowly torn between the need to find his brother and his bodies need to rest and recuperate. His body won out.

"I promise."

Relief flooded through the injured hunter as the cuffs were removed. "Thanks Doc," he whispered.

Taking a deep breath he relaxed and closed his eyes. A few minutes later the pain suddenly faded away and he realized the doctor had slipped a hi-powered painkiller into his IV. Slowly he drifted off to sleep, finding no true rest with Sam's disappearance uppermost in his mind.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**I know this one is short, but I'll post another one soon. **_


	10. Chapter 10

AAU 10Meeting of the minds

Krista Fitzgerald had been a park ranger for a long time. She knew the lay of the land better than many of her fellow rangers. It was this experience and knowledge that left her with an odd feeling.. something was wrong.

Something like the so-called 'tornado' that tore through that _select _area of forest and nearly ripped a man apart. Something .. but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Then, three days after the man was airlifted to the hospital, scanning the area, she found his wallet and keys, and not four miles away; a pristine, sleek black Impala lay hidden in a grove of pine trees. On a hunch, she fit the keys into the lock and grinned when the mechanism gave way easily. Upon a cursory search, she found the registration and soon discovered the car's owner and injured man were one and the same: Dean Winchester.

Information in hand and against her better judgment, she drove to the hospital, hoping the identity of the stranger would, if nothing else, aid in his treatment. Sure, she could've called it in, but if she were honest with herself, this latest revelation just added to her already mounting instinct; something was wrong. Definitely wrong!

Now, standing in the corridor of the hospital, she waited and wondered, chewing on her lower lip lost in thought. The hallway was quiet. A quick glance sideways showed the nurse at the desk was busy filing paperwork. Beyond the door to her right lay Dean Winchester, or Dean Jones, as she found out from the nurse. He'd lied about his identity and while warning flags went up in her mind, she couldn't help wonder at this.

Absentmindedly, she reached in her pocket, the foreign keys jingling at her touch. Trust. That was a sore subject for Krista. Most people, in her experience, had proven unworthy of such a valuable resource, and, as such, she was not one to bestow such a treasure lightly to anyone. Liars, cheaters, they were all the same.

Then, upon arriving at the hospital and learning of the stranger's given alias, trust crumbled. God, how she wanted desperately to thoroughly search the car – discover who he really was, but again, something had stopped her, just as something held her back now from revealing this information to the police.

Family was all she had. Gram called her cynical, warning her that black and white were littered with shades of gray. One day she would meet someone that would break the barriers she had erected. Was Dean Winchester the one?

Krista snorted in disgust, highly unlikely. She certainly didn't trust his type. Even beneath the bruises she could see the devastating good looks. His type was always wrapped up in his own wants and needs. He was shallow and arrogant and she didn't like him.

What was it about him? Hell she didn't even know him but she'd already judged him. Something she never did. Sooner or later everyone disappointed but she usually gave them a chance – got to know them a little.

Vowing to keep her dislike in check until she had given him a chance, she slid the keys and wallet into her pocket.

There was no illusion, no pretense to her, she didn't like people very much, which was why she'd chosen to be a park ranger. Spending her days even weeks alone was no hardship. She loved every minute of it. She got more joy out of her horses and dog than she'd ever experience in the presence of so called humanity. Except for her Gram!

Gram had been there for her, the old woman was a strange bird, but Krista loved her.

Elizabeth Fitzgerald, Krista's Grandmother was a woman of few words. So when she spoke - Krista listened. After the rescue, Krista had wanted nothing more to do with the stranger. Gram had urged her to go visit him. Well, here she was – four days it had taken, but Krista had finally broken down. She didn't know why this Dean "Jones" Winchester guy bothered her so much; all she wanted was to be left alone. But she couldn't get his face out of her mind – so here she stood outside his door.

Krista fingered the keys - his keys. She didn't want to admit that saving his life had affected her. Gram's knowing smile invaded her mind and Krista snorted in disgust. Pulling her hand away from the door she turned to walk away when the elevator doors up the hall opened.

The young doctor stepped out catching sight of Krista standing outside his patient's door. In two strides he stood beside her. "Hey Krista, we don't see you in town very often. Came to see him I take it?"

"Hi Jason," Krista greeted. "Gram convinced me to come, she said I saved his life he's my responsibility now," she replied wryly.

"Mmmm Gram," he stared in a quiet whisper. He'd never admit it but Elizabeth Fitzgerald scared the hell out of him.

Krista laughed, "Yeah, Gram."

"Well good luck Krista, he's a handful that's for sure."

"Giving you trouble," she chuckled?

"Hell yes," the doc grumbled. "I can't keep him down. Moved him early this morning and an hour later he tried to get out of bed."

"Tried," Krista asked cautiously.

"Yeah, fell flat on his face, but it didn't keep him down for long. He's testing my patience Krista," the young doctor rumbled gruffly, "And he's going to kill himself in the bargain."

"His brother," Krista whispered.

"Yup," Jason affirmed. "He swears his brother was with him that day.

"It's possible, Jase," Krista replied quietly. "I found a set of motel room keys in the field. The manager said two of them checked in. The only problem is the search crews found absolutely no trace of him in the park."

Jason groaned at the look of determination on her face. "You're going to help him aren't you Krista?"

Krista shrugged in return.

Not an answer but it was there reflected in her eyes and he saw it. He knew why too. Her own family history was as tragic as they come.

"Good luck," he whispered, "You're going to need it." He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her cheek before walking away mumbling beneath his breath. It was a chaste kiss, he wanted more than friendship from her, and he'd made that clear. However, the barriers she'd erected around herself, her heart, he just couldn't seem to break through. She was a loner and she liked it that way. That in mind, he couldn't help wonder why she was really getting involved with his patient. 'Gram," flitted through his mind.

Sighing, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away.

Krista stared at the door to 'his' room. She didn't want to go in, didn't want to know him. He was trouble and she knew it. Something drove her, Gram or something else she couldn't put her finger on. It didn't matter now. She had made a decision and she would stick to it.

Grumbling beneath her breath she pushed the door open and slid into the room. Leaning against the wall she watched him sleep. He didn't look much better than he had four days ago. Only now bandages covered stitched cuts and purple bruises were turning a rainbow of colors.

Even in sleep the warrior felt a presence – her presence. He rose to consciousness quickly. Drawing in a shallow breath he felt a stab of pain race through his side. He groaned wondering what had drawn him from sleep. He shot upright ignoring the pain. "Sam?" he whispered hopefully. Searching hazel eyes found the shadow on the wall. "Sam?" he called again.

Krista saw the hope in his pain filled eyes. Unbidden, it touched something deep and longing inside of her and she choked back a tear. A tiny crack opened in the walls she'd built. "No," she whispered regretfully. "We still haven't found him."

Dean lay back and turned away. "Who are you?" he snarled.

"My name's Krista. I'm the one who found you in the park."

Slowly he turned to face her. Wincing as a stab of pain flashed through his skull. His voice cracked as he whispered, "Thanks for saving my life."

Krista ducked her head, "Your welcome."

"Doc says you're doing much better. You might even be out of here in a couple of weeks," she offered.

He wasn't about to enlighten her. His plan was to be out of the hospital in a couple of days – not weeks. She would find out soon enough. Like the doc, he knew she would probably try to stop him. He couldn't let that happen.

"We haven't given up the search, Dean. If Sam is out there we'll find him."

"If," he snapped. "So you don't believe he's missing either?"

"That wasn't what I meant," she shot back, her anger rising for no reason.

"Sure it is. You don't believe me anymore than the rest of them," he growled furiously. "You think I did this to myself on purpose. Hell, you probably think I murdered my brother and stuffed him in a hole someplace up there so I could collect the insurance. Sorry to disappoint you sweet cheeks. I love my brother more than life itself," he snarled.

Turning away he closed his eyes, hoping she would take the hint and go away. Where the hell had that come from? He must have hit his head harder than he though if he was blabbing his emotions to a stranger.

Krista stared at him in shocked amazement. This man hurt and it wasn't physical. The hurt and loss went deep into his soul. She bit back the cry that rose in her throat, as the crack in her armor widened.

Somewhere in her mind she heard his words; _I'll find you Sam, I swear I'll find you!_

"Dean," she called softly, sighing when he didn't answer. "Please Dean. I do believe you. Sam's not the first to go missing in the park. Over the last eighty years five people have gone missing." She wasn't about to mention her mother, father and sister were among them. "Sam is number six. Six months ago a seventeen year old boy went missing – vanished without a trace."

Dean's eyes flew open. That had to be the key. The missing boy was the reason they were in the park that day. Fingers curled around the sheet, his knuckles going white as he strained to remember what happened. A white-hot shaft of pain tore through his skull. He gasped and settled back against the pillow waiting for it to subside.

Krista called his name softly. His labored breathing and furrowed brow worried her. Reaching for the call button a bandaged hand grabbed her wrist.

"No," Dean croaked, "I'm fine." He opened his eyes pleading with her not to call the doctor.

Krista wanted to refuse. Slowly she saw the pain drop away and his breathing even out. What she saw stole her breath. It was the look in his eyes, the utter hopelessness and despair she saw there.

Dean swore beneath his breath and dropped the mask into place, hiding his emotions. The loneliness and pain flashed quickly away. "I'm fine."

"Dean?" she whispered softly.

He cut her off, "Please go," he told her softly.

She sighed, knowing she'd gone about this all wrong, but didn't know how to fix it. "I'm sorry," she whispered and turned to walk away. Keys rattled in her pocket reminding her of his wallet and car. Pulling both from her pocket she laid them on the bed beside his hand.

Leaning close, a wayward hand brushed his cheek. A tingling started in her fingers and sizzled up her hand. Quickly she snatched her hand back in surprise and sucked in a ragged breath. _'What the hell was that?' _she wondered.

Startled by the contact, Dean's eyes flew open.

Mumbling something beneath her breath, Krista took a stumbling step backwards. Their eyes met and locked; the air between them sizzled with energy, their gazes locked, becoming intense and oddly defiant. She was the first to look away breaking contact.

"Your car is parked at the motel," she stuttered suddenly nervous. Hurrying to the door she yanked it open only to stop. Leaning into the frame, she took a deep breath and glanced at him. The need to run, to hide, to never see him again screamed in her head, but something held her rooted to spot. That slight touch had turned her world inside out. "We'll find him Dean," she whispered and rushed out the door.

Wide-eyed, Dean stared at the door wondering what the hell had just happened. There was no way he was attracted to her. She wasn't his type – not even a little.

Fingering the keys, he frowned. In his worry over Sam he'd forgotten his car. 'Shit.' The car didn't matter; only Sam mattered. Staring at the keys a small smile tugged at his lips. Ok, maybe the car mattered a little, he grinned wryly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**More fluff – but the hunt is almost on. R & R if you please.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Another Sam, Charlie, Shamus update. Thanks for reading! Special thanks to my awesome beta JackFan2!**_

_**AAU 11 Fly away**_

Shamus rumbled around the cave mumbling beneath his breath. He was leaving. His little haven had gotten too blasted crowded. Turning the corner he stared at the two humans curled up in the sand. The runtling was a thorn in his side. Unlike the younger boy, he questioned everything when he should remain silent. He fought like a banshee. Shamus smiled at the thought. It gave the Clurichaun great pleasure to beat him into submission.

Too bad he needed him, needed him to carry his precious wine up the mountain to his new home. His magic could only do so much. The churlish runt would get him where he needed to go then… then the runt would be of no further use.

Shamus would never admit his magic was fading. Just like he wouldn't admit he was growing old. He was not immortal, but his lifespan was coming to an end. After a thousand years the power he coveted was deserting him. He blamed it on the humans. They had broken his barrels and angered the Gods. Growling beneath his breath he stepped into the cave

"Wake up ya lazy gob!" Shamus yelled at the top of his lungs and kicked Sam in the hip. "It's time to get me treasure on the road."

Shamus had grown fond of Charlie, at least as fond as the churlish Clurichaun could be. He merely threw his empty cup in Charlie's direction. "Get movin ya lazy sot, we've got work 'ta do."

Sam grimaced as the pain shot up his hip. He'd learned days ago not to antagonize the little creature. When he chose, Shamus could be vicious. Slowly, Sam rose to his feet, careful not to rise to his full height. Exasperated and sore, he stood hunched over to spare his back from scraping the rough rock surface of the roof as much as he could. Even at its highest point, the dank cave was barely four foot in height, not very comfortable for a man who stood six foot four. Shifting he grimaced in pain when he smacked the back of his head against the rocky ceiling. Grumbling he swore beneath his breath. Rubbing the injured spot he looked across at Charlie.

The boy beside him was moving slow. Charlie seemed depressed, at least more depressed than usual. Sam's heart bled for the kid, but there wasn't a thing he could do to cheer him up. Even bad jokes seemed beyond him this day.

Narrowing his eyes Sam's gaze followed the little creature as he strode across the cave. Shamus was up to something; the Clurichaun had been rattling around in the back of the cave for days.

'Well,' he groaned silently, '_this was one helluva rescue_,' He only hoped Dean was ok. Half conscious at the time, he was pretty sure Shamus had done something magical. From his vantage point on the ground it looked like a massive wall of energy, but he couldn't be sure. It had been six days since he'd run afoul of the Clurichaun – Six days of the creatures' verbal and physical abuse and Dean had not come for him.

"Dean," he whispered quietly. "Where are you?"

Shamus walked by kicking him in the ankle, "Get movin runtling, time ya earned yer keep. Ya wanna get fed ya work." With a flick of his hand and a mumbled word, the chains rattled and disconnected from the wall. "Into the back with ya now and move me treasure afore I gets upset." Shamus saw the faraway look in his prisoner's eyes.

Hearing Sam's quiet words the Clurichaun chuckled maliciously. "Don't be lookin fer yer fiend, he ain't coming fer ya runt. He ain't coming fer ya, he ain't even breathin no more so get yer self movin afore I move ya," Shamus cackled angrily.

Sam shuffled toward the back of the cave. His eyes were hard and unflinching as he growled at the little creature. '_Dean isn't dead_,' he screamed silently. He didn't care what the slimy little worm said. Dean was alive and coming for him. It was that thought that kept him moving. Dean wouldn't give up until he found him, of that Sam was certain.

Behind him he heard Charlie stumble and grunt in pain, but the young man quickly righted himself knowing Shamus would punish him if he didn't.

With a whispered word Shamus touched the rusted iron.

Sam heard the scraping twisting of metal as the chains were pulled from the wall.

Wrapped around their ankles the iron grated against rock as the young hunter and the weary Charlie moved to do Shamus's bidding. Stumbling through the cave the heavy metal caught on the rocky outcropping biting deep into the soft flesh around their ankles

Shamus didn't care about the comfort of his captives; he only cared about moving his precious wine from the overcrowded cave to his new home in the mountain. With a nearly constant stream of cackling, he berated his captives, mostly Sam, endlessly; this morning, however, even Charlie became an object of abuse.

With rocks and sticks he herded them toward his horde.

At the back of the cave two carts sat side by side, laden with the heavy barrels of wine.

Sam groaned. He knew what was coming when the chains flew through the air. The sound of screeching filled the cave as the rusted metal attached itself to the front of the cart.

Shamus chuckled and sipped from the cup that was constantly by his side. The look on the runts face was precious. Surprise, fear and defeat, maybe he could bring the runtling around after all. Two slaves to do his bidding would ease his life greatly.

For the first time in a hundred years Shamus doubted his magic. He was a Clurichaun, but his power had waned with the passing of time, the wine and ale doing as much as his age to mute the energy he needed. He knew his limits, snapping his fingers and moving his wine to the new location was impossible. What he could do was shield them from prying eyes. He would put a glamour around the carts and make them invisible to the world. His captives would do all the hard work and he could save his magic.

He sneered as he drove them out of the cave and up the hill. The whip in his hand snapping in the air close to their straining backs. They would pull the wagons carrying his precious cargo across the mountain. His new home waited.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**_Well another chapter down - Sam and Charlie are at the mercy of a cruel master. Will they survive the long trek to Shamus's new home?? _**

**_Hey, thanks for reading and reviewing, !! Huggers_**


	12. Chapter 12

_**I think alot of you have been waiting for this. **_

_**AAU 12 The Great Escape**_

Dean lay in the hospital bed planning his escape. The doctor had come and gone. The last of the stitches had been removed but the cast on his hand and the brace on his left knee and ankle would remain for a while longer. The figure eight restraint kept his broken left collarbone in place but that was the least of his worries. He tried to take a deep breath, wincing as bruised ribs and torn muscles protested. Recovery just wasn't happening fast enough.

No matter, he'd lived with pain before. Experience taught him how to suppress it. Bury it deep inside and forget about it. Sam needed him. He could deal with just about anything if it would get him to Sam.

That thought took precedence and made him more anxious than ever. Swearing under his breath, he glanced at the door and recalled the first time he'd tried to stand up unassisted. Still weak, his body betrayed him and he'd landed flat on his face. The doc had been furious.

The explanation of a visit to the bathroom had been met with a simple, "use a bedpan." The second time, he'd managed to stay on his feet but even a tiny step away from the bed was beyond his capability. Though he'd managed to stay upright for a few minutes, he'd hung onto the bedrail for dear life before finally being resigned to climbing back into the bed, exhausted by the effort.

Day eight saw him on his feet and limping around the room. Today was the day and hope loomed bright for an escape. A neat pile of clothes, his clothes, were stacked on a chair, Krista had brought them two days ago. The visit, if you could call it that, was brief. Saying very little, she just walked through the door and dropped his backpack on the dresser. He saw it in her eyes; she knew what he was planning.

There was something about her. He just couldn't seem to figure it out. She wasn't in his usual style, pleasant to look at, not beautiful, her cobalt blue eyes held many secrets. She was tall, maybe 5'7" with sandy blond hair that she wore braided and swept up and under; yet several wayward strands had escaped their confines softening the lines of her face.

A hard one to read, Dean couldn't' figure out what she was thinking. She was damn good at hiding her emotions. Almost as good as he was. He had to wonder why. What had happened in her life to make her this way?

The day she'd brought his clothes, she'd been wearing dark brown shorts and the first thing Dean noticed was her legs; they went on for miles. Unbidden, he wondered what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around him. Thinking about _what_ he'd do with those legs or better yet have her do with those long legs.

"Mind out of the gutter, shit," he mumbled beneath his. No sense in thinking about her legs since, soon enough, he'd likely never see her again.

A sound at the door drew his attention and he turned to see a woman in her early forties standing there, seemingly hesitant to enter. Sad eyes, framed by a careworn face stared at him for several seconds before mumbling an apology and backing out of the room. But the doorway didn't empty. A younger, heart shaped face peeked around the corner, a small smile on her cherubic face.

"Hi," Dean whispered. "Come in I don't bite." His brow wrinkled in thought. The face was familiar; too damn familiar but he just couldn't seem to come up with a name or place to match. The damn knock on the head had wiped all memory of that day from his brain. He needed desperately to remember what had happened to Sam. He wanted to scream or throw something, but all he could do was push against the darkness that had invaded his mind.

The girls tinkling laughter filled the room as she pushed the door wider and stepped in, quickly approaching the side of the bed. One of her small hands seemed to brush the bandage wrapped around his right hand. Her brows furrowed with sadness. She looked up and caught his quizzical gaze snatching her hand back quickly.

"I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm Angela," she whispered softly. The smile then faded to concern and she asked, "Is Sam ok?"

"Sam," Dean blurted out. "How do you know Sam?"

"I met Sam in the park, he said he was going to find my brother Charlie," the little girl whispered.

"Finally," he groaned. Now he was getting somewhere. Perhaps this little girl held the key to his missing memories. "Angela, what happened to your brother?" Dean asked cautiously.

"He went away. My mom has posters up all over town. At first she thought he ran away but now she thinks he was kidnapped. She hurries to the hospital when someone new or a John Doe comes in, but you're not a John Doe are you?" she replied curiously.

Dean smiled at the young girl, she was cute, but the sadness in her eyes gave his heart a jolt. Her brother Charlie was missing and now Sam was missing, there had to be a connection. "No sweetie, my name's Dean and I'm going to find Sam and your brother."

He didn't know why he said it. It was tantamount to a promise. If he could get out of bed and kick himself he would. The wide smile that flashed across her face made him grimace. _Way to go, Dean._

Groaning he couldn't help but smile back.

Angela's smile slowly faded, replace by a sadness that cut deep to the hunter's heart.

"I know you'll find your brother Dean and I think Sam has already found Charlie, so you can bring them both home. You need Sam and my mom needs Charlie," she told him merrily. "Bye," she whispered. "I have to find my mom now." A tiny breeze brushed across his hand before she turned away.

The little girl skipped from the room, humming a child's tune. Her lilting voice soothed Dean's tired mind and washed away the pain. The song was familiar; its familiarity tore at the hunter's memory. It was a lullaby! The song his mother sang to him when he was young. The memory brought a tearful ache to a jaded heart.

Shaking off the memory he watched the little girl walk out the door. "Bye Angela," he whispered.

As yet unrealized by the hunter, a warm sensation swept through his hand, the hand where she'd touched him, and spread slowly up his arm, suffusing his entire body. It caught him off guard and he took a deep breath for the first time in days, a pain free breath that surprised him. Maybe it wouldn't be all pain and no gain after all.

Cautiously, he sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed and sucked in a breath. His right leg hit the floor first. Gingerly he stepped down on his left. A sharp stab of pain went through is knee He hissed but didn't retreat. Instead, he shifted right taking the weight off the injured leg. Grinding his teeth in frustration and determination, he stepped down again. This time the pain was less, more manageable.

Tentatively he took a step forward surprised when his knee and ankle held under his weight. He would have to take it easy for a couple days, but he would make it. He had to make it – Sam was out there alone and in trouble.

Grabbing his pack he headed for the bathroom. Staring at the hospital gown he grimaced in disgust at the ugly creation hanging off his body.

Getting dressed was harder than it should have been. Pulling his shirt on over his head took his breath away. Each move of his left arm sent stabbing pains searing through his injured shoulder. Bending over to pull on his jeans brought the darkness rushing in. He grabbed for the wall to hold himself up. All the while he chanted "Sam needs you," in his head. Over and over the words played themselves out.

When his clothes were finally in place, his boots tied he took a deep breath and made his way back out into his room. Leaning against the side of the bed he gathered his strength.

Seconds later the door opened behind him and Jason stepped in, a resigned look on his face.

Dean spun to face the intruder, a determined and unrelenting look on his face.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jason asked slowly.

"To find my brother," Dean warned.

The doctor sighed, his patient was in no condition to leave the hospital, but he also knew he couldn't make him stay. He took stock of his patient; Dean was on his feet if a bit wobbly. Beneath the façade his patient showed to the world Jason saw the stress. Hazel green eyes hid most of it, but the pain was obvious. "Dean, please give yourself a couple more days – please," he asked hopefully.

Dean stopped, his body going completely still before he spoke. He didn't turn, didn't look up, but the words he spoke were filled with desperation, "My brother doesn't have a couple more days, doc." He knew with certainty Sam was running out of time. He didn't know how he knew – he just knew.

"How will you find him Dean?" Jason asked quietly. "A dozen trained search and rescue personnel couldn't find him."

Turning his head, he met Jason's gaze with his own unwavering stare. There was no doubt about the outcome in his mind or voice as he answered, "They don't know what I know. I will find him!"

"Fine," Jason sighed giving in. Opening the chart he held in his hand he removed some paperwork and laid the white sheets on the table beside the bed. "Dean please sign these before you leave. I filled a prescription for pain medication." He finished the statement by pulling a small bottle of pills from his pocket and set it down on top of the paperwork. "Take it when you need it but not more than one every eight hours."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, "Thanks doc," he whispered. "Sorry I couldn't be a model patient."

Resigned, Jason chuckled, "I bet you say that to all the doctors."

During Dean's treatment, he'd seen first hand the scars that laced the man's body: bullet wounds, knife wounds and injuries he'd never seen before. Jason had been appalled at the damage, but it wasn't his place to ask. He had been sorely tempted to call in the authorities, but something about his patient stopped him.

Dean smiled, catching Jason's eye, "You'd win that bet doc." Signing the papers he held out his hand.

Jason glasped it tight a small wry smile on his face.

"Thanks for putting me back together doc," Dean replied quietly. Turning away he picked up his bag and slid it carefully over his good shoulder. Moving as quickly as his protesting body would allow Dean headed out the door without looking back.

Jason waited only long enough for the door to close before he pulled a phone from his pocket. The answer came quickly. "He's leaving now – good luck, take care of yourself," he whispered into the phone.

-o-o-o-o-o-

_**The long awaited escape - LOL! Finally Dean is on his feet (sort of) and the hunt is about to begin! **_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A little Sam angst, alot of Dean angst. Huggers!**_

_**AAI 13 To the Meadow**_

Four days they'd been on the move, the going was slow. Every muscle and joint ached. His shoulders were bruised from the thick leather harness he wore. The first two days had been a living nightmare as they trudged up the narrow path. The carts were heavy and unwieldy making their gait uneven and adding to their misery. Many times the two captives had slipped and slid backward as the cart dragged them down. Hands and knees were scraped and bloody.

Turning his head, he caught sight of Charlie; the younger man was even worse off. A mass of bruises, some visible and others Sam couldn't see but knew existed by his stiff movement, peppered his body. Dark smudges circled the boy's dazed eyes and red blotches covered his face, a result of labored breathing. After six months of being cooped up in the dank cave Charlie was pale, weak and badly out of shape. The kid wasn't going to be able to keep up the pace for much longer.

The young hunter sighed, wishing he could do something to help, but chained as he was that was impossible.

He raise his head into the wind. His eyes misty with tears, hoping yet hopeless. "Dean where are you," he whispered brokenly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A cab waited at the front entrance to the hospital. Dean didn't know or care if it belonged to someone else. Giving the driver the name of the motel, he leaned back against the worn seat and stared out the window. Over and over he wracked his brain for some memory or some clue to Sam's disappearance, but to no avail. Even after eight lousy days he couldn't remember.

Bleak eyes stared out the window as the world passed in a blur of colors. The ache in his head was combined with his frustration, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and wanted to scream.

Suddenly he recalled Sam's computer.

"Dammit," he growled beneath his breath. "How could I forget?" Sam always kept a file of their latest hunt. He hoped this time wouldn't be any different. He needed Sam's computer.

Before the cab even came to a stop, the door flew open. He threw a twenty at the driver and whispered a distracted, "Thanks man." Gingerly he stepped out, favoring his left leg, careful not to stress it until he had too. At the moment he was relatively pain free the result of good drugs. It wasn't morphine – thankfully. The stuff was great but morphine robbed him of all thought clarity and physical awareness. For now, he needed his wits about him.

The key sat heavy in his pocket. Standing in front of the door he wanted to believe Sam would be on the other side, waiting for him. It wasn't true, he knew it but he wanted to believe it anyway. Heart thundering in his chest, he closed his eyes and pushed back the tears. Sam would be fine, he would find him and all this would be nothing but a bad memory.

Growling something about stupid chick flick moments, he opened his eyes, returned to the task and inserted the key into the lock. As the lock tumbled and the door opened, Dean froze. His gaze swept the room, pain gnawed at the pit of his stomach. The sight of Sam's things, but no Sam, sharpened the pain to a razor's edge and he drew a ragged breath.

The room was exactly how they'd left it eight days ago. A pair of Sam's jeans was draped across the corner of the bed. His backpack hung on the back of the chair, another reminder he didn't need. Looking at Sam's things only sent the hurt deeper.

Limping across the room, he slid into the chair and stretched his aching leg out to the side. A hand subconsciously rubbed his sore knee as he reached to open Sam's computer and flip the switch to turn it on. The fingers on his good hand drummed impatiently as he waited for the computer to boot up.

The prompt on the screen finally blinked and he lay both hands on the keyboard, the cast on his left clunking awkwardly on the metal, and he set about the awkward task of logging in. It was cumbersome enough with the hard cast, but the other hand was equally stiff, wrapped in thick layers of gauze and tape. After several attempts, he missed the keys and the login process failed. Frustration mounted and he growled beneath his breath, and tore the bandage off his right hand.

Transfixed, he stared wide-eyed at the ravaged skin on the palm of his hand. The stitches were gone but the palm and the surrounding skin looked like shredded cheeses. It was criss-crossed with tiny pink, barely healed scars. Curiously, he eyed them, his brow furrowed in confusion, wondering how he'd gotten so torn up.

That day was still a black hole in his memory. Krista had supplied the details of his "run in" with Mother Nature. He'd heard the amazement in her voice as she described the scene of destruction. How he'd survived, none of them knew.

Dean did – Sam needed him!

"Gawd," he mumbled and gingerly scrubbed at his eyes, "_Pull it together Dean. This is not the time to become some maudlin girl_."

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the pain, the aches, and the sorrow to the back of his mind and logged into the computer to start his search.

A frown tugged at his lip as he read through Sam's files. College boy had been researching Leprechauns. "What the hell," he grumbled in confusion. The words spoke of pots of gold, rainbows and shamrocks; now he was really confused. Further into the file he found references to another similar creature, only this one was highlighted and set out in bold red letters. One brow arched high in concentration as he read. Of particular interest, were the notes on how to render the creature's magic useless. All he had to do was find the proverbial needle in a haystack, the elusive four-leaf clover. How the hell was he going to do that? He could search for days and not find one. There had to be another way?

Twenty minutes later he was frustrated but ready. Armed with the knowledge that what he was facing was indeed a Supernatural creature.

The room was empty behind him as he closed and locked the door. They were paid up for another week, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Short limping strides took him across the sidewalk to the Impala. Gingerly he slid behind the wheel and after a quick turn of the key, the Impala roared to life. Dean smiled; the vibration and hum of the engine massaged some of the tension and trepidation from his tired muscles. It felt good to be back behind the wheel of his baby. Shifting into gear he backed the car out and headed down the road toward the park.

Hazy memories flashed through his mind as he drove the few miles into the mountains. The drive was familiar, but nothing he saw triggered a memory of that day. There was a hole in his mind he couldn't fill. Growling in frustration he focused on the road ahead.

The memories weren't necessary, he told himself. Memories of that day would have helped but it wasn't going to stop him. Somehow he knew he'd failed Sam, he had to have failed him or Sam would have been sitting beside him right now. From the first moment he'd awakened he couldn't think of anything but Sam. He had to find him, he had too!

As the road stretched before him, he stubbornly forced aside the guilt clouding his thoughts and he mulled over the information he'd found in Sam's file. The cryptic nature of his brother's research reminded Dean all too much of Dad's journal; for all their head butting, John and Sam were very much alike.

That thought aside, Dean quickly recounted the contents of his brother's research and he prioritized the need to find a four-leaf clover as his best possible hope to combat the creatures magic. While he would search, he knew he couldn't afford to spend too much time. Without it, however, he couldn't nullify the Leprechaun's magic, and if that didn't work, he'd need to find another way – he had too.

Twenty minutes later he arrived at the park. Spying a large, full pine, he carefully parked the Impala within its shady depths, in hope it would remain until his… _their _return. If Krista saw the car Dean only hoped she'd know to whom it belonged and not alert the cops, or set Search and Rescue on his tail.

Opening the door, he slid out and pushed himself up, keeping as much weight as he could on his right leg, sparing the injured knee any stress. He knew full well he needed to conserve his strength and not push it until he absolutely had too.

Limping around to the back of the car, he opened the trunk and pulled out the weapons and supplies he would need for a trek into the mountains. Dean winced as he settled the backpack over his shoulder; the movement pulled at the torn muscles and bruised ribs protested. They were wrapped tight, but that didn't stop them from complaining the rough treatment.

Now, gazing at the big meadow behind him, he took a few guarded steps and hissed at the slight stab of pain that spiked up his leg. Thankfully, the knee held and most of the pain quickly faded as he continued slowly toward the meadow. Reaching the edge of the lush green field he stopped and dropped his gaze. Anxiously, he scanned the ground, hunting for some sign that would tell him what had happened to Sam.

It was time to hunt.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**_Another chappie down, hope you are still enjoying this "off the wall" little fic?_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**AAU 14 A Helping Hand and Paw**_

Dean stood at the edge of the meadow his brows furrowed in concentration. It happened here, he could feel it. The backpack, filled with various weapons and whatever else he thought he might need, sat snug and heavy against his shoulder.

The sight before him was nearly overwhelming. Row after row of mountains waited. The climb would be difficult even if he were all in one piece. However, with a bum knee and bruised ribs…well the journey was going to be a little more than difficult. It didn't matter that it might just be a nightmare for him. He didn't care, Sam was out there and he would find him even if it took the last breath in his body, he would find him and bring him home.

Gently he shifted his backpack over his injured shoulder testing the weight carefully before limping off into the field. A pile of debris on the east side of the valley caught his attention. A shiver of something he couldn't quite understand shot through him. He sucked in a deep breath and stared at the ravaged ground. A deep gouge in the valley floor – twenty feet wide and over a hundred feet long was a blight that now covered the once serene meadow.

Where memory failed, instinct prevailed and he knew this was where it happened. This was where Sam had gone missing and he had failed; failed to protect his brother. Staring at the mound of debris he winced and closed his eyes, a brief flash of memory streaking through his mind. He felt himself tumbling his body scraping against the ground as he rolled and bounced across the valley.

With a gasp, he stumbled sideways, his knees giving way. He fell catching himself before he planted his face into the dirt. Dean shook his head to clear the memory regretting it immediately as the pounding behind his eyes increased. It took him a moment to catch his breath and let the clamoring in his skull settle. Agonizingly slow the dizziness faded and the pain tearing at his skull eased. It was long moments before he pushed himself to his feet and stood once more on wobbly legs. Gritting his teeth his jaw clenched in remembered pain he stared across the valley.

Memories flared again, but this time he stood his ground. Memories of Sam lying on the ground, his body being battered by some unseen force flashed in his mind. A strangled cry escaped him and he moved toward the site. Limping strides broke into a stumbling run as he crossed the meadow. He slid to the ground his fingers hovering above the grass.

This was it; this is where Sam had stood bathed in the light of the rainbow. A choking sob escaped the hunter. Blades of grass were darkened by his brother's blood. Fear and confusion tore through him. Sam was hurt, he'd know in his heart, but his head just didn't want to believe. On hands and knees he searched the area looking for anything that would put him on his brother's trail.

Probing fingers found tiny wooden splinters, the wood darkened with age. Raising a piece to his nose he smelled the faint scent of fine wine. Rolling the splinter over in his hand his fingers traced the golden design etched in the surface. So Sam had been right, it wasn't a Leprechaun but a Clurichaun that had lived in the little valley. Now the nasty little creature had Sam.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Standing in the tree line a few hundred feet away Krista watched as Dean limped across the valley. It hurt to watch him, his pain tore a hole in her heart. Swiping at the tears she growled low in her throat at the emotions running rampant inside her. Something was driving her to help him. She was a park ranger, it was her job to help others but this… this was different and it confused the hell out of her. She was drawn to this man and his tortured soul. She felt a warm flare of heat against her chest and sighed.

Behind her one of the horses moved restlessly rubbing his nose against her arm. "I'm going, I'm going," she growled affectionately.

The two horses followed her as she stepped out of the trees. One was a sleek chestnut gelding, the other a tall powerfully built paint. Their bulk hiding the third animal, a little mule. All were packed and ready for a long hike into the mountains.

Standing a few feet away stood an Irish wolfhound. Her broad head raised high her eyes bright with anticipation as she sniffed the air. Normally, a sight and speed hunter the Irish wolfhound lifted her head at the hated scent wafting through the valley. Still as a statue she stared into the mountains, she would hunt today. A hunt she had dreamed of for many years. She had watched and bided her time, and that time was now.

Swinging into the saddle, Krista nudged the paint into a ground-eating trot toward Dean. The wolfhound veered off toward the pile of debris, Krista watched but didn't call her back, focusing instead on the man standing forlornly at the far end of the valley. Dark memories of her own past drew her to him, giving her a greater understanding of his anguish. Then, those same memories flashed unbidden in her mind….

Five years ago she'd lost her family to these mountains. A rescue on the far side of the park had kept her from her family that day. Mom, Dad, and a baby sister had come for a visit and a quiet stroll in the park. That morning she had waved goodbye from the cab of her truck. That was the last she had seen of them.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped angrily at it, growling under her breath at the weakness the memories produced. That had been a long time ago. Pushing away the pain, she took a deep breath knowing she faced an uphill battle with Dean. He wouldn't want her help but she wasn't going to take no for an answer. This was something she needed to do for herself as well as for him.

Lost in thought, Dean didn't immediately hear the sounds of thundering hooves. When he did he whirled to face them, his hand reaching for the shotgun strapped to his back. Recognition flared and Dean quickly dropped his hand to rest at his side as the rider approached.

Instead of her uniform, she wore a pair of worn jeans, a dark forest green T-shirt and faded baseball cap. Back straight, she moved easily and in rhythm with her mount; an easy confidence that spoke of years and skill in the saddle.

Krista stopped her horse a few feet away and swung out of the saddle.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Did you come to laugh at the crazy guy?" he challenged.

"No." Narrowing her eyes she took a deep breath to rein in her temper, "I came to help the crazy guy find his brother," she challenged back.

A crinkle of amusement lit Dean's eyes. "Why, you don't believe me?"

Sighing in frustration she answered calmly, "I told you at the hospital I believed you. I want to find out what's happening here as much as you want to find your brother. I'm going with you."

"No," Dean ground out flatly, "You're not."

Krista notched her chin in defiance, "Yes. I. Am."

At that moment the running Wolfhound skidded to halt almost crashing into Dean in the process.

"Shit," Krista mumbled beneath her breath. She'd forgotten about the dog for a moment. The oversized canine didn't like people very much, "Duchess no," she shouted ready to spring forward if the Wolfhound took exception to Dean.

Duchess swung her head to face Krista and tilted it to one side as if to scold her mistress.

Krista stopped dead in her tracks; it was unusual for the Wolfhound to go up to a stranger. She avoided most people at all costs, growling in warning if they got too close. She wasn't afraid – she just didn't like them, much like Krista herself.

Dean too stood his ground as the big dog looked up at him and shook her head. He saw it then, the shine of metal from inside her mouth. Gingerly, he kneeled down and held out his hand. Krista tensed for fear of how the Wolfhound would react.

The big dog immediately dropped her prize into his hand. Dean's eyes widened in surprise, "My cell," he whispered reverently.

Flipping the phone open he turned it on noticing two things. One – it was almost out of juice and two he had a message. Praying the phone had enough battery life to enable a connection, he dialed and listened.

Relief flooded through him, his hand reached out to caress the Wolfhounds' head as he listened to the message. The words were broken and slightly distorted, but his brother's voice was all he needed to hear. Sam was alive and his words reinforced his conclusion as he listened. "It's a Clurichaun Dean. I'm in some stinking cave in the mountains. I found Charlie. Where the hell are you?" Sam's voice paused and he heard the worry laced in the words when his brother spoke again. "Dean, I hope you're ok. I don't know where I am, but I found Charlie…," only silence greeted his words. "You'd better not be dead ya big jerk," Dean swore when he heard his brother's howl of pain just before the connection was severed.

Staring at the phone he whispered his brother's name softly.

Krista stared at Dean in surprise. She heard snippets of the conversation and her brows furrowed in confusion – wondering what the heck a Clurichaun was plus the fact that her loner dog was letting some stranger pet her was amazing.

Of their own accord Dean's fingers scratched behind the big dog's ears.

The Wolfhound groaned with pleasure leaning into his hand.

Turning back to the hunter, Krista studied him carefully knowing he wouldn't stop now – his brother was alive and she knew beyond all reason that Dean would find him.

Dean dropped to the ground and stared at the phone in his hand. Quickly he dialed his brother's number waiting for it to ring. He swore when the connection went immediately to voice mail. "I'm coming Sammy," he screamed before the power in the phone died, severing the connection.

His body language was heartbreaking his eyes lost and filled with an emotion rarely seen on the hunter's face, pure terror and for a short time an all encompassing fear that he would not reach his brother in time. Quickly he wiped it away, growling beneath his breath. Taking a deep breath he gathered his strength and pushed the emotions away.

The mountain before him, Dean climbed to his feet. The Wolfhound, pressed against his leg in silent solidarity as a low growl escaped her throat. One hand rested against the animal's shoulder. Resolute and determined, Dean lifted his head into the air and whispered, "I'm coming Sam, I'll find you I promise."

Around the valley the wind gathered his desperation, carrying his words on the breeze - Brother to brother, Warrior to Seer.

Echoing his promise, the Wolfhound lifted her head into the wind and howled a challenge.

Across the miles a promise made found its mark.

Sam struggled to pull the over laden wagon up the hill when it hit. The Seer gasped and turned facing east – facing his brother. He felt it, his heart thumped in his chest. Shamus was wrong, his brother was alive he was coming for him.

Relief overwhelmed him. Closing his eyes he whispered softly, "Dean."

The relief was short lived as a blow struck him in the back. The impact sent him to his knees, the rocky ground tearing through his jeans to scrape the skin below.

Engulfed in pain, he didn't hear the sound of the carts wheels as they crunched on the gravel. Ever so slowly, the cart started to slide backwards, dragging Sam with it. Chained to the cart he scrambled for a hold his hands scraping against rock as the heavy cart pulled him back.

Behind him he heard Charlie's scream.

Shamus screeched in terror, at the visions of his precious wine being dashed against the rock. He whispered a word and stopped the cart dead in its tracks.

"Git ta yer feet runt," he yelled. He lifted the whip he held in his hand, but he stayed the blow, for once realizing that beating his captive would only cause more trouble. Instead he contented himself with kicking dirt at Sam's ankles and yelling," Git movin runt it be a long way to me new home."

Slowly Sam climbed to his feet. Dean was coming that's all that mattered. New energy flooded his tired, pain wracked body.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The last two days had been a living nightmare for the two captives. Heavily laden carts moved slowly. The rolling foothills had turned to steeper mountain trails. Shamus mumbled beneath his breath, his magic flowing over the carts easing Sam and Charlie's burden. Two days after leaving the little cave they were exhausted, even with Shamus's magic lightening their load.

Charlie was the first to stumble from exhaustion; he went to his knees and stayed there.

"Get ye movin boy-o," Shamus snapped.

Sam was furious, chained as he was he couldn't reach the boy to help him up so he turned on Shamus instead. "Stop Shamus!" he yelled. "Can't you see he's tired? If you'd bothered to feed him this morning, he might have had the energy to pull your stupid wine."

Shamus' ruddy face went beet red, how dare the runt challenge him. It didn't matter that he was right. The stick in his hand struck hard and fast catching Sam in the side, not once but twice the little Clurichaun hit him.

The blows tore the breath from his body. Again, Sam hit his knees, scraping his already abused skin and drawing blood.

Sam gasped and groaned unable to keep the hurt hidden anymore. His body ached almost beyond bearing. His eyes searched the ground around him hoping to find the one thing that could render the little bastards magic useless, but his search for a four-leaf clover was in vain. Dark pain filled eyes searched the ground, Goldenrod, daisies, buttercup; everything except clover grew on the side of the hill. Flat on the ground, eyes closed he lay still, ignoring the furious Clurichaun ravings.

"Get up, ya filthy gob," Shamus screamed.

Charlie slowly rolled over preparing to climb to his feet.

"Stay down Charlie," the young hunter ordered. "We need to rest."

Charlie stared at him for a few seconds, fear of the Clurichaun overcome by his exhausted state. Hunger and thirst warred with his spent muscles; he knew he wasn't going to go much farther without nourishment.

"Get up!" Shamus yelled again.

The young hunter wanted desperately to put his hands around the little creature's neck and choke the life out of him. He'd learned that lesson early; Shamus' magic protected him. He shot to a sitting position and returned the Clurichaun's scream, "No Shamus, give us something to eat and drink and an hours rest, then maybe we'll get up."

Shamus was on the loosing end of this battle and he knew it. In the blink of an eye his anger faded. The runt was right, but he wasn't going to admit it. With a huge yawn he shuffled away.

"I'm hungry," he grumbled beneath his breath. Rifling through the back of Charlie's cart, Shamus pulled out a bundle of food and a pot of water and tossed them to his captives. "Eat up runtling!"

Relief flooded the young hunter; rebellion had worked - this time!

Quickly the Clurichaun moved to stand in front of Sam.

"Just remember, if'n ya don't want to pull me cart ya stinkin gob, then I have no use for ya," Shamus threatened.

The young hunter knew Shamus needed him to pull his lousy cart – but the evil little monster wouldn't hesitate to kill him when his usefulness was at an end.

Staring at the Clurichaun Sam felt his own hate and rage simmering just beneath the surface. The creature was nasty – evil to the core – thinking only of himself and his precious wine and ale. He didn't give a thought to the boy he'd stolen from his family or the punishment he inflicted. In fact, the little monster enjoyed punishing them. His eyes flew to Charlie's wishing there was something more he could do for him.

Somehow Sam knew he had to stay alive long enough for Dean to find him. His brother was out there, and headed this way. Time was all they needed; he just hoped he had it to give.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**_I hope you are still enjoying this little bit of insanity, Hugs, another chap coming soon._**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Thanks again to my great beta Jackfan2 for keeping me on the straight and narrow and to all of you who have read my little bit of insanity. Special thanks to those of you that have taken the time to review. Huggers all**_

_**AAU 15The Long Trail**_

In the meadow Dean waited. With every fiber of his being, he hoped Sam would hear his words and somehow let him know he was still alive. Several anxious minutes later, the wind stilled and he sighed in disappointment.

Resigned, yet still determined, he turned back to the task at hand; finding his brother's trail. He'd almost forgotten about the park ranger and the wolfhound at his side until the big dog stuck her cool wet nose into his left hand.

Dean had also forgotten about the small wooden splinter he held. Opening his hand the piece of wood lay across the cast. It was then he felt it; the shiver that went through the large canine's shaggy gray body. The animal suddenly growled as she turned and took two steps toward the mountains. Head down, nose to the ground the rumbling of her growl continued deep in her throat.

Eyes wide in amazement, Dean felt hope flare anew. She'd caught the scent. He would find Sam; there was no doubt in his mind now.

He took a step forward only to feel a hand on his arm stopping him. Turning to face Krista, he surprised her by asking, "You still want to help me find him?"

"Of course," she whispered.

Gently, she took his pack and lashed it to the mule making sure the weight was distributed evenly. The shotgun she slid home into the holster on the big chestnut gelding's saddle.

While she worked to secure his gear, Dean watched the Wolfhound nose the ground. Only when she lifted her head and looked back at him did he ease closer to the chestnut. His lips twisted wryly as he wondered how he was going to haul his sorry ass into the saddle. His left knee wasn't up to the stress.

"This is so going to hurt," he grumbled beneath his breath.

Beside him Krista smiled and threw the reins over the big horse's neck. "Allow me," she grinned. Winking at her hapless victim she reached over and tapped twice on the point of the chestnut's shoulder. He responded instantly.

In one fluid movement, the gelding stretched one front leg forward and curled the second beneath his chest as he bent deeply toward the ground. The large animal's movement took Dean by surprise and he stumbled back awkwardly .

"Brat boy here is a rescue horse." Krista explained affectionately patting the horse on the neck. "He's saved my aching back more times than I care to count. Plus there are a hundred kids at the barn who want to ride. It was more necessity than anything else. Now close your mouth and hop up," she chuckled.

Dean's eyes twinkled merrily as he snapped his jaw shut. Sidling close to the big gelding he threw his right leg over the saddle and grabbed for the horn. Once he was settled in place Krista said, "Up." Immediately, the chestnut smoothly climbed back to his feet.

Gathering the reins, Dean slid his hand down the horse's neck. He was a gorgeous animal and if he'd guessed correctly was a full-blooded Arab. "What's his name?" he asked quickly.

Krista smiled. "Most times I call him Cody, but it depends on how much mischief he's gotten himself into and then I'm usually calling him something very different."

Picking up the reins of the big paint she swung into the saddle. "This is PA."

"Oh let me guess," Dean quipped – "Stands for Pain in the Ass!"

Laughter rumbled in her chest. "Together these two can cause more trouble than a bunch of wild monkeys. He's an arrogant cuss but a hard worker and he adores me," she chuckled.

Looking up she saw him move awkwardly in the saddle. "Are you ok? I'm sorry I didn't even think to ask if you could ride – I just kind of assumed…"

"I can ride," he finished for her. "My dad was working up in Wyoming one summer. He threw me up on a horse when I was ten. Said a man wasn't a man unless he could ride a horse. Then he smacked the horse on the rump, she took off like a bat out of hell, but I stayed on," he grumbled. "I got pretty good at it," he whispered to no one in particular. "Haven't been on a horse in a couple of years, but its something you never forget."

A whining growl caught their attention, "Oh yes and this is the Duchess," Krista introduced them. "For some reason she likes you and Duchess doesn't like anyone."

"It's the Winchester charm," Dean smirked, flashing her a bright smile.

Krista rolled her eyes and heard Duchess whine again, "And she's impatient." Duchess was practically dancing as she rocked from one foot to the other in anticipation of the hunt. Krista smiled and gave the big dog the order to move out, "Go Duchess."

All business now, Dean nudged the chestnut into a trot and watched the big dog as she turned to face the mountains. The wolfhound dropped her head and took off across the valley. "She's got the trail, but I don't think its Sam she's following," he murmured.

Beside him Krista nudged the paint forward. "What then, if not Sam?" she questioned her brows furrowing in concentration as she watched the big dog.

"I'm not sure you really want to know," Dean warned her.

"Dean, I need to know what we are facing out there. I've seen a lot of things in this job, nothing would surprise me."

"Wanna bet?" he mumbled beneath his breath.

"Dean," she chastised him.

"Fine, you want to know what's out there? It's a Clurichaun – cousins to the Leprechaun."

Krista eyed him curiously wondering if the drugs he'd taken were messing with his mind.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," he growled. "You should have stayed in your quiet little valley and been happy with your comfortable little world. Yes, Leprechauns exist, as do ghosts, goblins, vampires and werewolves." He turned to stare at her – daring her to refute his statement. He was looking for a fight – anything to relieve the rage and anger building inside him. In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't antagonize her, she was helping him after all, but he just couldn't help himself.

Ready to dispute the statement, Krista snapped her mouth shut. Gram had told her to open her mind and shut her mouth so that's exactly what she was going to do. Ignoring his words of censure she asked, "How does a Clurichaun differ from a Leprechaun?"

"Leprechauns leave a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, a Clurichaun hordes wine and ale, leaving a barrel at the end of the rainbow. They are nasty little creatures – always drunk and rather unfriendly."

"If we find this thing how do we deal with it and rescue your brother?"

"No if – _when_. _When _we find it," he whispered softly. "But good question. My Dad's journal was unclear, but Sam's research suggests a four-leaf clover will do the trick. Placed against the creature's skin the clover will nullify the Clurichaun's magic."

Dean saw the movement of her hand as it came up to lie flat against her chest. His eyes met hers asking, "You ok."

"Yeah," she whispered, as the warmth of the medallion blazed through her chest. "What happens after that, after we find it I mean?" She already knew what Dean was going to say and winced at his words.

"We kill it!" The determination in his voice left no doubt.

Dean didn't wait to see her reaction but put his heels into the big chestnut's side and urged him forward into a canter. The first jolt of the horses stride sent a ripple of pain slicing through his side and he grunted. Rather than slow down, he merely pulled his arm against his side to cushion the blows and continued. Beneath him, Cody settled into an easy rocking chair motion and glided across the field. He could do this he told himself. The warrior in him ignored the pain that flared hotly through his body with each stride the big horse took. He sucked in a shuddering breath and focused on the task and the gray Wolfhound ahead. He could do this – he had too!

Krista hesitated, her hand clenching across her chest gathering the cotton and what lay beneath it before sending the paint into a canter. Gram had known – but how?

Soon enough they reached the foothills and Dean had no choice but to bring the gelding down to a walk as the rocky foothills loomed ahead. The desire to hurry was strong, but common sense prevailed. The trail was steep and rocky; hurrying would only lame a horse or get someone killed.

Duchess slowed her stride waiting for them to reach the trail. Dropping her nose back to the ground, she continued to track the scent. The smell of the creature was ingrained in her heritage. Passed down from generation to generation she knew instinctively what she tracked. The smell had been in her mind since the day she'd been born. Now at last she'd been given the chance to hunt the creature down.

A little less than an hour later the wolfhound crested the hill to a small plateau. To the east the mountain rose up in a sheer cliff. The rocky surface pitted with cracks and tiny plants that had managed to dig a foothold into the slick surface. The west side of the plateau was a sheer drop to a small canyon below. The trail continued to the south in a gradual incline, below it the sound of a gurgling stream could be heard as it crashed over the rocks below. Trees lined the waterway growing more dense where the water exited the mountain.

The scent was strong but the wolfhound knew the creature was no longer here. She needed to make sure, needed to show the humans that she was right. Nosing the ground, she followed the scent toward the rocky wall. The wolfhound stopped short expecting to find the scent of the rock that barred her way, but all she could detect was the scent of the creature she hunted.

Dean dismounted on the off (right) side of his horse – making sure to catch all of his weight on his good leg. He even managed to avoid bumping his sore ribs. A few feet away Krista swung down from the saddle and dropped the reins of the paint – effectively ground tying the horse. He might shuffle his feet but the big horse wasn't going anywhere.

The Wolfhound stepped to the wall of rock. Following the scent, her nose broke the barrier Shamus had set up. The glamour rippled and faded away revealing a gaping hole in the side of the cliff.

Dean pulled the shotgun and stepped to the wall. "Duchess come," he called hurriedly.

Duchess halted in her tracks and took two steps back her head coming around to look at the hunter. She cocked her head to one side as if to question the command. She knew something he didn't.

"Keep her back Krista," Dean whispered urgently. The hunter knew the Clurichaun wasn't there. They had been making enough noise coming up the trail to wake the dead – but he wasn't taking any chances.

Shotgun raised Dean slid into the opening staying close to the wall. The putrid smell of the cave smacked him in the face. He gagged and blew out a breath at the rancid odor. He could smell human feces and … death. Pulling his left arm across his face, he buried his nose and mouth in the sleeve of his shirt. A small flashlight in his hand marked the way.

The sound of rushing water close by drew him farther into the cave. The flashlight panned across the cave, piles of human waste lay off to one side. A few feet away a dark fire pit was hollowed out; tiny critter bones lay scattered in the fire pit a testament to the fact the Clurichaun was at least feeding his captives.

Reaching out, his hand hovered over the charred wood and rocks at the bottom of the fire pit, hoping some slight bit of warmth would reveal itself, but the coals were cold. Not a breath of heat wafted into the cool air of the dank cave.

Moving deeper into the cave he hunted for signs of Sam and Charlie. Nothing reached out at him, but this was the place. In his heart he knew Sam had been here.

The back wall of the cave opened up to a huge, high ceiling room. Empty barrels were scattered around the base of the wall. The stale stench of wine and ale hung in the air.

Heart heavy, he turned back into the tunnel preparing to leave. A flash of light reflecting off metal caught his eye. He moved quickly across the cave to investigate. The hunter crossed the distance and cautiously leaned down, his fingers hovering over the object.

"Sammy," he whispered desperately. With shaky fingers he picked up the twisted metal and plastic of Sam's phone. Fear, as twisted as the phone in his hand, punched him in the gut and he glanced angrily around the cave, signs of the Clurichaun's depravity and vicious nature were everywhere.

Then, shining the light into the darkest recesses of the wall he saw a pile of rusted iron manacles chained to the wall. A sob caught in his throat at what Sam might be suffering.

_Pull it together_ he growled beneath his breath. Pushing the emotions away he pocketed the mangled phone. A wry smile twisted his lips; Sam would have a field day if he knew Dean was having a chick-flick moment.

Fear, now warred with determination and frustration at not getting here sooner. Angry at himself, Dean made his way to the mouth of the cave. The entrance was flooded with light and he could see the big dog facing outward, her body low to the ground as she guarded the entrance.

"Krista," he yelled just before exiting. A few feet away Krista stood guard, a rifle in her hands and he had no desire to be shot. "I'm coming out."

The Ranger wrinkled her nose and stepped back as he moved out, the stench that clung to his frame was almost overpowering. "Anything?" she asked cautiously.

"Three things." He said matter-of-factly as he stomped back up the trail. "One, I found Sam's phone and two, the creature's a sick son of a bitch," he growled his still healing injuries seemingly forgotten.

There was quiet, save for the crunching of rock under their feet. Krista steeled herself and finally asked, "And three?"

Dean stopped suddenly and looked at her. "I'm going to tear that son of a bitch apart with my bare hands," he swore beneath his breath.

More than the words, it was the steely and resolute anger that darkened the color of his eyes, and the harsh lines of determination around his mouth that made Krista swallow visibly. Standing there she watched Dean continue up the trail. A heartbeat later she followed realizing for the first time some things of her own; first, pissing off Dean Winchester would not bode well for the responsible party. And second, that she was suddenly very glad she was not the responsible party. This was a man who could be _very _dangerous if he choose to be.

Grabbing the reins of his horse Dean knelt in the dirt hunting for some clue that would lead them to Sam. Beside him the Wolfhound stepped close, her sensitive nose on the ground trying to sift through the myriad of smells that surrounded them. The stench of the cave was still in the air confusing her, but like the human beside her, Duchess would not give up the hunt until the creature was found.

Together, man and wolfhound zigzagged across the ground and up the trail. Rain had washed the trail making it harder to pick up the scent, but they would not be stopped. Dean knew the creature would not move back down into the valley. Civilization was encroaching on its habitat; it was time to move on. That meant moving farther into the treacherous mountains.

On foot, the big chestnut trailing a few feet behind him, Dean slowly made his way up the hillside. Rounding a bend in the rocks the trail leveled out and opened into a small valley.

Huge Pine trees filled the valley, the underbrush a soft mat of fallen – fragrant needles. Rays of bright sunlight filtered through the trees, lending it a mystical aura. His hawk like gaze scanned the area taking in every detail, his search halting only when he caught sight of something fluttering in the breeze.

Rushing across the distance his right hand snaked out capturing a small square of dark blue material caught on the low hanging branch of a tree. Rubbing the piece of cotton between his thumb and forefinger he instantly recognized the pattern of Sam's shirt. "Good boy Sam," he whispered.

"Duchess," he called softly. The wolfhound came obediently to his side and he lowered the material for her to sniff. "Find him girl," he whispered hopefully and yet demanding. "Find my Sammy."

The wolfhound went to work, her nose hundreds of times more sensitive than a humans as she worked to obey his request. Suddenly, she froze. A low woof rumbled in her throat as she locked on to the scent. The target was close; she tossed Dean what he could have sworn was a wicked grin before taking off at a steady trot into the pines.

Anxious, Dean hurriedly stowed the shotgun and climbed into the saddle.

Krista did the same. For the first time in days she saw hope in his eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**I have a few surprised in store for you. All will be revealed soon. Hope you are still enjoying the story, another chap soon.**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Kudo's and gratitude to my wonderful Beta – Jackfan2!**_

_**If I had disclaimers they would go here: **__**Ok - I own them all.**_

_**Ratza, Fratza I cannot tell a lie – I own nothing, but I am still holding out hope for wining the lottery!!**_

_**AAU 16 One Track Mind**_

The sun was sinking over the horizon. It had been a long day. Krista knew they had traveled nearly ten miles over the rough terrain, more than enough to exhaust anyone in top condition, let alone someone in Dean's condition.

Worn out, she felt the big horse beneath her tiring. Without a doubt, she knew Dean had to be suffering far worse then any of them. To his credit, he hadn't made a sound, hadn't complained or shown signs of exhaustion until now.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Normally, Dean had a one-track mind to the exclusion of all else. On this day, however, while his mind was willing, his body was not. As the sun sank over the mountains he listed sideways in the saddle, exhaustion taking over. The uneven weight distribution brought his well-trained mount to an eventual stop but the hunter was completely unaware.

Swearing softly, Krista kicked free of the saddle and leaped off the paint. An hour ago she'd tried to persuade him to stop and rest but he'd stubbornly refused. Now they were both going to pay the price.

Just as before, she tapped Cody's shoulder and just managed to catch Dean as the chestnut slid to his knees. With a grunt of exertion, she took the full brunt of his dead weight, struggling to lower him in a way that would not inflict more damage on his already battered frame.

That accomplished, she brushed a hand across his cheek and forehead checking for a fever. His skin was flushed but not feverish and she sighed in relief. Just as she suspected, he was exhausted and needed time to rest and heal.

Cradling him in her arms she sighed helplessly. He was driving himself beyond endurance and it tore a hole in her heart, but she didn't know how to stop him. Thankfully his body was doing it for him, even if his mind didn't know the limits, his body did.

Krista sighed helplessly. She didn't know what it was about this man that made her so crazy. The icy shield that protected her heart was beginning to thaw. She sighed hating him for doing this to her. She trapped her emotions so far down she didn't think anything would break them free, but somehow he had. She hated him for that, no, that's wasn't true," she told herself. He was arrogant, egotistical and pigheaded, but she surely didn't hate him. She swore when the word love popped unbidden into her mind. It certainly wasn't physical love she felt for him, at least that's what she told herself. It was something else altogether. She loved his single-minded, all consuming passion and the love he held for his brother. What she saw in this man scared the hell out of her.

Had she given up the search for her parents and sister too soon? For weeks she had scoured the park hunting for a clue as to what happened to them. Then she'd given up, gone back to her life, but she hadn't forgotten. She buried her feeling, keeping everyone around her at a safe comfortable distance. She never wanted to feel the heartbreak and loss again. She was much happier alone – she told herself! Dean Winchester had changed all that.

Looking at the man cradled in her lap she knew he wouldn't give up the search no matter the cost. If it took the last breath in his body he would save his brother.

Gently her thumb brushed across his cheekbone, her tears fell unchecked.

A few seconds later his eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused as he stirred to life and tried to get up. She swiped at the tears that had fallen unbidden down her cheeks and took a deep breath. "Dean, lie still, you passed out and nearly fell off Cody."

Blinking away the fog, Dean opened his mouth to refute the statement, but since he couldn't remember how he'd gotten from the horse to the ground he snapped his jaw shut. "I have to keep going," he whispered urgently. A slice of agony tore through his skull when he lifted his head. He sucked in a ragged breath and lay back into the soft comfort of her arms.

Krista swore beneath her breath, anger replacing compassion and put a restraining hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back. "Dean,' she growled, "It's getting late and will soon be too dark to ride. I'm not going to risk breaking my horse's legs in these mountains. So shut up, stay put and rest while I take care of the horses.

Still swearing beneath her breath at the idiocy of some men she slid out from beneath him. Pulling off her jacket she lifted his head onto the soft fabric rather than the hard ground. Making sure he was fairly comfortable and his heart rate and respiration were within reasonable limits, Krista moved to take care of the horses.

Hazel green eyes glanced surreptitiously from beneath long lashes. He knew her anger was just a façade to cover the way she really felt. She was worried about him. She was a girl after all; emotions were part of their makeup.

Krista didn't see the small twisted smile on the hunter's face, which spoke of his amusement of her ranting. Good thing, she probably would have belted him.

Glaring at him she snapped, "Stay put," warning him again before stomping off.

Thankfully the horses were well trained. They stood side by side the big Wolfhound close beside them waiting patiently for her arrival. Pulling the packsaddle and supplies off first she hobbled the little mule before unsaddling and turning the horses loose to graze. She could hear a stream in the distance and wasn't worried about water. Checking to make sure they were cool, she laid out portions of grain for each of them. Knowing they would need the fuel and energy to keep up the long trek into the hills.

Duchess picked herself up and crossed the short distance to Dean's side and lay down.

Wearily, he rested one hand on the dog, fingers playing in the long hair on her neck. His body ached, his head pounded incessantly. Finally acknowledging to himself that he wasn't going anywhere tonight, he closed his eyes. Duchess settled her head on his chest her body now pressed close to his side.

Dean rarely let anyone or anything get close to him. Emotions always kept hidden. His father had taught him that. _You feel for something and it would be taken away._ Dean hid his emotions behind sarcasm and smart-ass remarks. With the need to find Sam the walls he'd built to protect himself were crumbling. For the first time in a very long time the floodgates broke.

The big Wolfhound had taken more than a slight liking to the hunter. She could feel his need and his pain and instinctively knew the creature she hunted was the cause. She loved Krista, but right now this man needed her, her strength, her cunning and mostly her love. Moving closer she turned her head to run her long tongue over his hand.

Dean turned and buried his head in the Wolfhound's neck. Pain, exhaustion and terror seared through his mind. He could only imagine the horrors Sam was being subjected too. He hated that he couldn't find him, hated that his body was weak. Tears of sorrow and misery coursed down his cheeks. He felt helpless and inept and he was drowning in sadness.

Duchess huffed sadly, her tongue again licking at the salty tears that streaked down his cheeks. She was keenly intelligent and felt the sadness that welled up inside him. She sighed and laid her head across his neck.

Hunting the creature had become a passion for the Wolfhound. Memories of the past flooded her when she'd captured the scent of the creature. A sense of horror invaded her mind. She didn't know why she felt it; she only knew the hatred she harbored in her soul for the creature was real and unforgiving. Those memories, though faded with time, had not stopped the vengeance that dwelt in her soul. For so long she had been afraid. That fear had kept her pinned to Krista's side. Now the fear was gone – only the hate and the need for retribution remained. The time to hunt had come.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Krista knelt beside the pack of supplies and caught a glimpse of the Wolfhound as she moved to lie beside Dean. The dog had adopted Dean for some reason – comrades in battle, she thought gently.

She remembered the day the bedraggled, injured Wolfhound had crawled out of the woods and into her arms. The pup snuggled close, her mournful eyes gazed adoringly up into the sad haunted eyes of the park ranger.

Krista sucked in a breath. Emerald eyes that reminded her so much of a little sister lost only a few days ago. They were knowing eyes that had seen too much at such a tender age. A strangled cry escaped her as she wrapped shaking arms around the pup and hugged her tight. She knew in a heartbeat what she was going to call the wolfhound pup. "Duchess," she murmured as memories of her young sister flashed through her mind bringing a smile to her lips as she did so. Her sister had loved to play dress up. Nothing in her mother's wardrobe was off limits. Dresses, hats, shoes and feathers of all shapes and sizes adorned the young girl as she paraded around the house in full regalia. Krista had taken to calling her "The Duchess."

Duchess sighed, woofing beneath her breath as if to say she was happy with her name. The wolfhound buried her head in Krista's arms, wanting and needing the closeness as much as Krista.

Starving and badly hurt, Krista had taken the pup in, healed her wounds and gave her love unconditionally. Duchess returned that love a hundred times over.

Many times Krista had seen the Wolfhound standing still and silent looking into the hills. At first she thought the dog wanted the freedom of the open spaces but the dark angry growl that rumbled in the Wolfhound's chest told a different story. Now she knew why. What ever had happened to the pup five years ago had been at the hands of the Clurichaun! God was she really buying into the magical creature story Dean had told her?

She saw Dean move. Helplessness flooded her when she saw him bury his face against Duchess's neck. No words that she could say would help. Only finding his brother would cure his sorrow.

A few minutes later his hand stilled and his body stopped shaking. The floodgates had closed. The warrior hunter was back in control.

Fixing the Wolfhound's dinner Krista set it down in front of Duchess before heating some soup for Dean. They ate in silence; Dean unwilling to discuss his earlier breakdown, Krista not sure any words she uttered would help soothe his fears.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Miles away the weary captives bedded down for the night. Shamus had declared the narrow canyon in which they now sat his new home.

Exhausted and beaten, Sam knew his time on this earth was coming to an end if he couldn't get free. He raised his head and stared down the canyon. Dean was out there, he was coming and hope flared in his chest quickly suppressed by the thought of his brother facing Shamus's magic. The Clurichaun used his magic sparingly. Most of what he'd seen was minor magic, the one time Shamus had expended powerful magic was when he'd attacked Dean. Sam knew he had to find a way to nullify the Clurichaun's power, but how?

Sighing unhappily the young hunter curled into a ball and snuggled beneath the ragged blanket. Behind him he could hear Charlie's even breathing the boy had already slipped into an exhausted sleep.

Shamus had taken himself up the slope into a cave he'd found in the side of the mountain. The little creature grunted and groaned as he sipped at his mug and mumbled beneath his breath.

"How do ya like yer new cave Shamus me boy. It's got all the wee comforts of home don't ya think," the Clurichaun mumbled to himself, "Fresh mountain water fer makin yer wine and soft sand for makin yer bed. We think it's a grand fine new home."

Looking around his gnarled hand held high in the air as a light from a bespelled quartz stone brightened the inside of the cave. "With a little work from boy-o and the runtling it will be just like me place in the ole country." In his other hand the half-filled cup of ale was raised into the air, and spoke softly to the walls around him, "What ya think Da, do ya like me new home?"

The granite walls echoed his words and Shamus smiled his ascent.

With the light of the stone in his hand Shamus took a big gulp of wine from his mug and stumbled out of the cave and down the clearing to where his captives slept. Grunting and grumbling beneath his breath he shone the light on the shackles making sure they were securely attached to the big pine under which his captives lay. Weaving his way around and between them he lashed out and kicked Sam in the leg, chuckling when he heard the grunt of pain.

Sam had learned it didn't matter if it hurt or not as long as the nasty creature thought he was inflicting pain he was happy. The kick barely registered on the pain scale, but if he refused to make a sound – Shamus would continue to kick until he screamed. As much as it hurt his pride to give in to the little monster Sam pretended the blow hurt.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Another chapter for your enjoyment (at least I hope you are enjoying it) I love hearing from you and hope you will take a few seconds to post a review for me. Huggers**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Another chapter for you reading pleasure – Thanks to everyone who has read the story up to now, I greatly appreciate your comments if you have reviewed. My great new Beta Jackfan2 is doing her best to keep me straight.**_

_**AAU 17Finding hope**_

Dean slept the sleep of the dead, his exhausted body giving in to its demands. A few feet away, Krista sat against a tree, head back to gaze into the night sky. The moon was high, lending a bright eerie light to the dark night. The little valley was quiet except for the crickets and an owl hooting in the trees above them.

Deep in sleep beside her, Krista felt Dean's body stir. She watched as he began to twitch, his body reacting to something in his dreams. His movements became harder as he thrashed about.

Krista drew in a deep breath, worried that he would aggravate his injuries even farther. "Dean," she called softly trying to wake him.

Deep in the throws of a nightmare the hunter did not hear her and did not awaken.

Seconds later, his movements became wild and uncontrolled. Krista had only one choice; she grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms to the ground. Straddling his hips she shouted, "Dean wake up."

Caught in the nightmare, Dean could see only the tall figure of his brother being battered about. He reached out but could not save him, could not draw him back from the brink of disaster. Screams of terror were torn from his throat. He'd failed to save his little brother, failed to reach him in time. Silently he screamed his brother's name over and over again.

A voice called him from the darkness. He stilled, listening to the sound. He woke with a start coming to full awareness in an instant. A familiar face filled with worry hovered above him. Emerald eyes blinked in confusion widening at the sight of her dark desperate eyes staring down at him.

Embarrassed, he looked away quickly, hating that she'd seen his emotional display. He felt her breathing heavily above him, her hands gentle but firm on his wrists, but not wanting to see the pity in her eyes, he stubbornly refused to meet her gaze.

"Don't Dean," she admonished. "Don't pull away. It's ok to hurt."

It was more than he'd ever wanted her to see, or anyone else for that matter. The pain in is heart, the tears in his eyes. "Get off me," he growled.

Krista sighed but didn't budge. Instead, she released one of his wrists and brought her right hand down to caress his cheek.

Startled by the gentle touch, Dean's eyes flew to hers. It was not pity he saw there, it was hunger, a hunger that matched his own. He'd tried to deny it, tried to bury it under the anger but he could no longer hide the desire that flooded through him. What the hell was wrong with him? For the most part she annoyed the crap out of him and this was neither the time nor the place.

"Krista," he whispered softly. Leaning forward he brushed her lips with his. Tasting the sweetness he sighed letting the scent of her invade his tired body.

Troubled by her own rampant emotions she pulled back and stared at the man beneath her. What the hell was she thinking? She didn't even like him. Didn't even know why she was helping him, but here and now – she couldn't pull back – couldn't seem to stop the feelings raging inside her. She leaned close – too close, letting her emotions take control.

There was a longing in her eyes, a need that mirrored his own. A breathy sigh escape her as their lips met. It was a soft, gentle kiss that held the weight of the world in its depth.

A ripple of electricity shot through them surprising both of them with its intensity.

Her eyes flew wide at the shock of his lips meeting hers. It sure as hell wasn't pity she felt for him – but she wasn't about to take advantage of the situation. She released him as if she'd been scorched and threw herself to the side planting her body a few feet from his, her eyes wide with confusion.

A quirky smile tilted the hunter's lips, so it hadn't been his imagination. '_She liked him, how very interesting_.' His smile died as the moonlight glinted off something over her heart. Slowly he leaned forward and reached for it.

Krista snatched the object before he could touch it and clutched it in her fist but not before Dean had gotten a good look at the silver medallion.

Heart shaped, the front was etched in an intricate Celtic symbol. He'd seen that symbol before. CuChulainn – The Hound of Ulster – lay within a twisting, twirling Celtic Shield Knot – in a symmetrical four-leaf pattern. It was a symbol of protection and power. The hound within was one of Ireland's greatest heroes.

Dean shot to a sitting position and leaned forward, ignoring the exhaustion and the pain that flared in his side. His eyes flew to hers pleading, "Please Krista, may I see the medallion?" Under other circumstances he might had grabbed for the medallion without her permission. Wrestled her to the ground taken a look, but something stayed his hand. Maybe it was the vulnerable look in her eyes, or the sudden stillness her felt in her body. Either way this time he asked.

Wary and tense, Krista didn't immediately release the medallion still clutched in her hand. Eyeing him, she narrowed her gaze. The pendant was the only thing she had left of her mother. She usually kept it hidden beneath her shirt, close to her heart. This night for some reason it had slipped from its resting place. The medallion was special, her grandmother had given it too her, told her to never take it off but to hide it away. Time and time again she had asked her grandmother to tell her about the medallion, but Grams had always refused.

When she'd first told her grandmother about finding the injured man in the park her old eyes had lit up with interest, but she said nothing. As Krista had walked the horses out of the barn the old woman had stood straight and tall blocking her path.

Elizabeth Fitzgerald eyed her granddaughter carefully asking, "Do you have the medallion?"

"Of course Grandmother," Krista answered in confusion.

Without giving her granddaughter time to question her further, the old woman placed her hand over Krista's heart a tiny smile touching her lips.

The medallion responded to her touch. Energy flowed through the old woman's fingers awakening the power hidden in the amulet.

Against Krista's skin, the metal shifted and grew warm. She looked up in surprise, her sapphire eyes catching and holding her grandmother's gaze.

A tiny sad smile tilted the old woman's lips, "Its time to bring them home child."

Krista felt the sudden heat flare across her chest and gasped in surprise. "Grandmother," she whispered.

"Go," Elizabeth hissed. Beneath her breath the old woman whispered, "_She_ needs you."

The whispered words were hard to understand, the words she heard spun around in her head. "Krista frowned, don't you mean _**he**_ grandmother?"

Elizabeth smiled and brushed a kiss across her granddaughter's cheek without answering.

Shrugging, Krista's thoughts flew to the man she had saved over a week ago in rainbow valley. Dean was a stubborn ass but his all consuming need to find his brother drove him. 'Yes he did need her help, he would never survive a trip into the harsh mountains alone in his condition. Therefore she had no choice but to help him.

She knew from past experience what those mountains could do to a person. The toll they could take upon a family, her family. Five years ago her mother, father and little sister had gone hiking in the mountains. A leisurely stroll to enjoy the beauty that nature offered. They never returned, no trace of them had ever been found. Krista had searched long and hard, but even her skills and knowledge of the mountains had failed her.

She sighed as the memory changed. At her side the Irish wolfhound whined and pressed against her leg, anxiously awaiting her mistress's next move.

The day the pup had come stumbling into her life flashed through her mind. The pup had shown up five days after her parents' disappearance, five long, heartbreaking days, dealing with a grief had nearly consumed her. The pup had crawled out of the woods and into her heart. Her intelligence was uncanny, almost human at time. The gray green eyes reminded her so much of a little sister now lost forever, eyes that watched the mountains and waited for something. The wolfhound was a puzzle Krista could not solve.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Krista," he called softly.

Taking a deep breath she released it slowly. Memories fled and the world came back into focus. She blinked away the tears forming in her wide wary eyes. Fingers slowly uncurled before she released her death grip on the pendant. It swung free and flared brightly in the moonlight.

He caught his breath and reached for the medallion catching it quickly. Gasping as the heat flared through his hand. A surge of energy washed over him. Power lay hidden in the medallion. Did she know of the power? From the look on her face he wasn't sure. Taking a deep breath he studied the pendant carefully.

It was beautifully etched, the silver bright and unmarred in its perfection. The Hound carved in the center of the medallion winked in the moonlight the eyes seeming to follow him as he tilted the charm from side to side. But it was the Celtic Shield knot woven around the Hound that captured his attention. The design was cleverly hidden but he could see it clearly. A four-leaf clover lay just beneath the knot. Holding the medallion up to the moonlight he caught the glint of emerald green as the bright moonlight washed across the pendants surface.

Frowning he closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around the medallion. He concentrated his thoughts on the heat spreading through his hand and up his arm. Power pulsed in the heart of the amulet he could feel it beating. Slowly he opened his eyes his gaze landing in the hollow of her neck. He could feel the pulsing beat, matching time with the faint pulse ticking in Krista's neck, never realizing that his own heartbeat had quickened to match.

Her life was entwined with the medallion the evidence was clear – how he didn't know. But fate had flung her into his path; destiny was riding them toward a confrontation – with what he wasn't certain, but whatever it was they would face it together.

He was reluctant to let go, his body of a sudden felt renewed, the ache in his bad knee and left side had dulled, and the exhaustion that had sent him spiraling into oblivion was washed away.

"Dean," she queried softly.

Sighing, he slowly released the medallion, but the warmth stayed with him. He eyed the woman above him carefully searching her face for some answers. All he saw was her pain. It was a pain that seemed to mirror his own.

Sliding sideways, Krista gathered the medallion in her hand as a warm, furry body sidled close and laid a huge head in her lap. Fingers unconsciously curled themselves around the wolfhound's neck seeking comfort. Her voice was low, barely above a whisper as she spoke. "I lost my family in these mountains Dean. Gone just like your brother and Charlie. My mom, dad and little sister disappeared five years ago."

A choking sob escaped her and the dog beside her whined pitifully feeling her mistress's pain. "I couldn't find them," she cried brokenly.

"God Krista, I'm so sorry…" he whispered carefully. They were a pair, so unwilling to show their emotions.

She threw him a look that stopped him from saying anything else.

Swiping tears from her cheeks Krista turned away, "We'll find your brother Dean. I swear we'll find him," she cried vehemently.

Remembering his blowup at the hospital Dean swore beneath his breath, she knew exactly what he was going through, she had faced it five years ago. "_Nice move dumbass_," he berated himself silently.

His fingers reached once more for the medallion.

He looked up at her, his brows furrowed in thought. "Do you know what this is," he asked cautiously? "This is the key; your medallion just might be the only means we have of destroying the Clurichaun.

"My grandmother gave it to me when my parent's died. I don't know why but she told me never to take it off."

"There's power in it Krista, I felt it."

"Power," she asked in confusion – "What kind of power?"

"I wish I knew, but this little piece of metal may be the key I've been looking for."

"Key to what," she asked quietly.

Dean looked up, his eyes wary, "The key to killing the Clurichaun."

"Lore says a four leaf clover will do the trick." He saw her start to deny it but he smoothly cut her off. "Look, in the background. The Celtic shield resembles a four leaf clover. It's even tinted in green."

Holding the medallion in his hand Dean searched Krista's eyes. "You have to place this against the Clurichaun's skin. If I'm right, it will nullify the creature's magic."

"If you're wrong," she asked quickly.

Dean didn't know – not really but he had no choice. He didn't hesitate. "I'm not!

Krista took the medallion feeling its warmth spread up her arm as she touched it. She'd looked at the silver pendant a thousand times. The intricate detail of the hound and the scrollwork were still there only now the Celtic Knot stood out in vivid relief.

How was it possible, what had changed? In her hand she felt it pulsing, pulsing in time with a heartbeat. His heartbeat! Her eyes widened when she realized the shock that had seared through her at the touch of his lips against hers, a sweet gentle kiss that had rocked her world and scared the hell out of her, a kiss that had bonded them in the face of the coming storm.

Power – mystical magical power inside a shiny piece of metal. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Another piece of the puzzle! I hope everyone is still enjoying the story, and will take a minute or two to review for me. Sorry there's no Sam in this one but soon, I promise. Huggers**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**You will all be happy to know that the story is complete and starting monday I will post a chapter every day for your reading pleasure! Huggers all please R & R, I love hearing from you. **_

_**AAU 18 Dealing with your fears**_

Dean woke as the sun came over the horizon. The morning air was cool against his skin. It was time to go. Bruised ribs forgotten, he turned left; memory slammed home and he sucked in a breath waiting for the pain that never came. The ache was still there but not nearly as acute as the day before. The warmth of the medallion permeating his body filled his mind, it wasn't natural, but it wasn't evil either he concluded. Whatever it was he was glad of it. He sighed gratefully, knowing the coming day would be much easier without the pain nagging at him.

Rolling his left arm out and upward he winced as pain flared from his broken collarbone, but like his ribs the punch of agony was gone. It was more of an ache. Testing his range of motion he was surprised he could lift his arm almost to shoulder height. Not great – but usable, he mussed silently.

Reaching over he shook the shoulder beneath the blanket beside him forgetting for the moment it wasn't Sam, "Wake up," he growled, "Get your butt moving, the trail is getting cold."

"My butt is awake," Krista growled back. "We're not going anywhere until you have something to eat."

The night had washed away the sadness he'd seen in her eyes. The façade she showed to the world was back in place.

He didn't want to waste the time and planned on telling her so until the lifted eyebrow and implacable look in her eyes stopped him. It wasn't Sam's puppy dog eyes, no this time it was a glinting blue stare that brooked no refusal.

A wry smile tilted his lips as his stomached growled enthusiastically. "Can't argue with that now can I," he chuckled.

Laughter filled the air as Krista turned away to rummage through the pack sitting on the ground beside her sleeping bag. A few minutes later they were sipping coffee and shoveling ham and eggs into hungry mouths. The little sterno cans had been quick to heat the packaged food. It wasn't gourmet, but it was hot and filling.

Dean was grateful, "Thank you, that hit the spot… can we go now," he pleaded.

Krista could only laugh as she cleaned up the mess and repacked the supplies. A few feet away the horses and the little pack mule were cleaning up the ration of feed that she had given them. They had grazed on the lush grass in the little meadow so they were ready for another hard day on the trail.

Looking up into the mountains she knew today's climb was going to be hard on all of them.

Sighing she grabbed her hairbrush and gathered her long hair and plaited it. The wind would pick up as they moved higher and she didn't want it flying in her face.

"What can I do to help," Dean asked quickly.

"Nothing," she warned him. "You need to conserve your energy its going to be a long day." Glaring at him she moved quickly away, afraid of the explosion, thankful when he stood quietly and didn't argue

Dean grumbled beneath his breath. He hated feeling useless. It just didn't sit right – watching her do all the work while he sat on his ass. He felt fine. A little work would do him good; stretch his muscles get the blood flowing. A smile tilted his lips at the glare she threw him. A look that would have rivaled anything his dad could muster. 'Fine,' he mumbled beneath his breath

The horses came at her call and stood patiently as she brushed the dirt away and saddled them. She smiled as the big chestnut sucked in a breath of air and held it. A little trick he used to keep the girth from getting too tight. Slapping him on the belly she heard him grunt and blow out the air. He stomped his foot as if to chastise her for ruining his game.

"_Everything seems so normal_," she mussed silently, but it wasn't. Her whole world had been tipped upside down by the revelations she had discovered last night. Power she hadn't known existed was now a part of her. She shivered at the thought.

When the horses and mule were saddled and loaded Krista held her breath and waited to see if Dean would need help. Cody gave him all the help he needed – maybe somehow knowing his charge needed coddling.

Dean remembered the little trick Krista had shown him and Cody responded instantly. A tiny smile tilted the hunter's lips as his hand caressed the chestnut's silky smooth neck. For just a moment, his world seemed so normal.

He sighed, knowing how fleeting those moments were. Minutes later they were on their way.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A few hours later, the horses were blowing hard. The trail had been steep the climb harder than either of them had expected.

Staring upward, Dean grimaced at the several hundred feet they had left to traverse before reaching flat ground once more. His jaw dropped slightly when he saw the trail about fifty feet above him round a sharp bend to the left. The south side of the trail was a sheer rock face that dropped to a ravine a thousand feet below. Dean sucked in a breath as Krista's mount stepped dangerously close to the edge.

Beneath him the gelding huffed with the exertion of climbing. He could feel the horse's muscles bunching beneath him as he moved steadily forward up the trail.

The cliff up ahead didn't seem to bother the horse at all. Dean on the other hand felt the fear welling up inside him. He wanted to pull the horse up – stop – turn around – anything that would keep him from facing the certain death going forward offered. Leaning forward he pressed his forehead into the horses mane and closed his eyes. He could do this, Sam was out there waiting for him.

He could hear Cody whicker slightly. The horse's warmth soothed his aching head. The death grip he held on the saddle loosened and his hands slipped down to caress Cody's soft sleek neck. A child's soft voice hummed a familiar tune in his head. The music was soft and comforting easing his fears. Angela's face floated through his mind, her smile and knowing eyes eased his fears.

Sighing he relaxed into the horse's smooth rocking motion as it climbed the trail nearly lulling him to sleep. The pain and the harsh realities of his world drifted away. For a short time – a familiar tune gave him peace and contentment. The joyful lullaby filled the void in his soul.

He didn't know how long he lay that way. "_Long enough_," he mussed, when Krista's panicked voice brought him up sharply.

"Dean, are you ok?" she nearly shouted.

The hunter shot upright. His eyes flew open and the voice in his head stilled. Looking around he was surprised to find they had negotiated the narrow cliff successfully. Both horses and the little mule stood quietly in center of a small clearing. Well away from the cliff's edge. The Wolfhound stood a few feet away her head tilted sideways as she looked at him quizzically.

The feeling of calm stayed with him. The sarcasm he usually snapped out was missing as he answered, "I'm good Krista," he murmured softly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

An hour later they stopped for lunch, but Dean could barely choke down the hot soup. He was wound up tighter than a drum. His senses on overload he knew they were close – very, very close. But something else whispered in the wind. A shiver of unease coursed down his spine. Time was running out. Sam was in danger

Even the horses had become restless and jittery. Something dark swirled in the air making all of them nervous. They were getting close he could feel it.

They rode for another hour when he saw the Wolfhound raise her head into the air. A harsh wind swirled across the plateau bringing with it the scent of danger.

The big Wolfhound sniffed the breeze. A low rumbling started deep in her chest. The scent was fresh and close, so very close. Leaping forward she broke into a run toward the far end of the valley.

Dean set his mount in motion. Watching Duchess he saw the hair rise up on the back of her neck and shoulders. Teeth bared, she stopped before she reached the cliff's edge. Dropping low the big Wolfhound slowly inched forward toward the edge of the precipice, stalking her prey with deadly intent.

Sliding to the ground, Dean dropped the gelding reins. When Krista drew near, he put his fingers to his lips effectively shushing her. Pointing up the trail he showed her the Wolfhound's position.

Pulling the shotgun off the saddle he stuffed a couple more shells into the pocket of his jacket. His fingering on the shotguns barrel was awkward, the cast thick and unyielding on his hand. He swore beneath his breath wishing he could tear the damn thing off. Pulling at it he swore beneath his breath and gave up in pain and frustration when a few minutes later it failed to come off.

Silently, hunter and ranger climbed the trail until they lay beside the Wolfhound.

What Dean saw brought both joy and anger to his heart. It was hard to see from this distance, but he knew without a doubt it was his brother. Sam lay sprawled beneath a tree. A few feet away another figure – probably Charlie slept. They looked exhausted. Their clothes torn, their bodies bloodied and bruised.

He heard the creature before he saw it. The rumbling sound carried up the side of the mountain. The words were unclear, slurred by the drink the Clurichaun had already consumed.

The hunter sucked in a breath. Watching as the creature crossed to Sam's side and lashed out sending a booted foot into his brother's hip. Fury swept through the hunter and he nearly broke cover. He wanted to rush down the hill and into the fray. Strangle the Clurichaun with his own hands. Only his dad's training, drilled endlessly into his head stayed his hand. Taking a deep breath he calmed the raging storm inside him. It wouldn't do any good to show his hand now. Mumbling beneath is breath he studied the terrain.

From where he lay the plateau was about two hundred feet below them and to his right pointing toward the east.

Sharp eyes scanned the area. The Clurichaun had picked a quiet, peaceful spot for his new home. A couple hundred feet in length, at least two thirds of the far end was covered with large pine trees. The area closest to where he lay was open grassland, now thick, lush and green from the recent rains.

The trail to the valley seemed to open on the east side, which meant they would have to go further up the trail they were currently following before heading down to the Clurichaun's new home.

Dean grumbled beneath his breath. There wasn't much cover from the trailhead to where Sam lay shackled to the tree. Crossing a hundred feet of open area wasn't going to be easy. For all he knew the trail and the plateau could be riddled with magical traps, designed to thwart anyone's attempt to access the creature's new home. Yet there didn't seem to be any other way down.

What he didn't like was the rock face that sheered off into nothingness about twenty feet from where the trail ended. The cliff ran the entire length of the plateau. It was hard to see from his current vantage point but the hunter figured the drop went down at least several hundred feet to a ravine below.

Falling off the cliff's edge meant certain death.

Pushing himself away from the edge, he stepped back down the trail away from the ledge, motioning for Krista to follow.

He gave her a hard look. Her eyes were round as saucers and he wondered if she would freeze at a critical moment. "You sure you're up for this?" he asked cautiously.

Krista shuddered. She'd never seen anything like the creature before. Dean had called it a Clurichaun. The sight of it sent a shiver coursing through her. A trembling hand reached for the medallion she wore beneath her shirt. Its warmth calmed her, but only slightly. She had seen it, the evil lurking in the creature.

Her eyes took on a faraway look as she turned toward the ledge they had just vacated. She was afraid; there was no doubt about that. The biggest question in her mind was, had her family fallen to such a creature?

"Krista?" he growled sharply.

Her head snapped around the fear still evident in her eyes. At her knee the Wolfhound whined and sidled close pressing against her leg.

Growling silently Dean knew he had no choice but to trust that she would follow through. His hand came up to rest over hers. The medallion's power flared brightly as the connection was made. The shock made him gasp but soon its warmth settled around them binding them together once more.

Dean's eyes widened but he didn't release her hand. The warmth beneath his hand spread quickly. He knew in an instant she would not back down – would not falter. He felt her pain as she felt his.

Eyes locked they knew what lay ahead and embraced it. The medallion flared one last time. Whatever power lay inside the medallion had sanctioned their quest. It was time to finish this!

Beneath their hands the silver cooled and pulled back its power releasing them.

Her eyes hard and determined she implored him, "Tell me what to do?"

Dean sucked in a breath. He didn't question what had happened. He'd seen and experienced too many things to question the medallion's power. It was time to finish this, of that he was certain.

"It will be dark in an hour. It should give us enough time to get down there and check out the terrain before we make our move. I'll go in first do what I can to distract the bastard. I need you to stay close to the wall and out of the creatures' sight. It'll be up to you to place the medallion against the creature's skin. After that…" his voice trailed off, his eyes hard and resolute.

Krista knew exactly what he planned. She was uncomfortable with the thought of killing it, but if the creature really was responsible for all the deaths in the parks, it had to be dealt with.

"OK," she murmured.

At her side the Wolfhound whined. It was a dark angry sound that made Krista shiver. Dropping her hand she laid it against the large gray head. She could feel the dog shiver, but it wasn't with cold it was with anticipation.

Time for Retribution!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**We are getting down to the nitty gritty. Will Dean and Krista make it in time?? Will Sam survive, will the Clurichaun be destroyed, and what about Charlie is he broken beyond repair? All questions will be answered soon. Thanks for reading, and I greatly appreciate the reviews thanks for taking the time. Huggers!**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimers: Yadda yadda yadda - and I still don't own them.**_

**_Jackfan2 - my awesome beta - You Rock!!_**

_**AAU 19 Rebellion**_

As silently as possible they led the horsed down the trail. Thirty minutes later Dean found the cutoff that would take them to the Clurichaun's new cave. From the distance and altitude, Dean calculated they had ten to fifteen minutes more before they reached the plateau where Sam and Charlie were being held captive.

"Unsaddle the horses, we need to leave them here," he warned.

Krista nodded, a frission of fear shot through her realizing that they might not survive the coming encounter. Nodding she turned to the horses and quickly unsaddled them. This time she didn't bother with putting the hobbles on the little mule. If they didn't return, the horses would have to fend for themselves.

Dean gathered what he needed before hiding the gear beneath some bushes. He tucked a Glock into the waistband at the small of his back. Thinking about the missing Colt he cursed at Bella beneath his breath.

Holy water was stuffed in the inside pocket of his jacket. The shotgun he strapped across his shoulder making small test pulls to be certain it was within easy reach. In fact, each weapon he chose was given the same treatment to be sure they could be drawn easily; making sure his cast did not hamper his movements. Lastly, he slipped a four-inch blade into the cuff of his boot and a second larger blade he concealed in the back of his jacket high on his neck, again pulling it free several times to get the feel of it.

A few feet away Krista stood, and watched, amazed at the practiced ease with which he prepared for battle. She felt suddenly ill equipped with only her snub-nosed thirty-eight strapped to her hip. Subconsciously her fingers played with the snap, but she didn't draw the weapon.

Dean stilled, his eyes assessing her. He liked what he saw. The fear was still there, but she had it under control. She stood straight and tall, her body zinging with suppressed energy. She was tense but ready to face the unexpected.

Smiling slightly, he no longer feared she would bolt at the first sign of trouble. "Come on crazy lady, daylights burning."

His words broke the tension in her body and she chuckled beneath her breath.

Krista took a few steps forward only to find the big wolfhound sidling in close. "No Duchess, stay here," she ordered the dog.

The big gray head swung to face her mistress her eyes narrowing. For the first time in their relationship the big wolfhound growled at Krista.

Dean couldn't tell which one was more surprised. He couldn't help but laugh.

Krista's jaw dropped, and she threw the hunter a look that would have split him down the center before fixing the big dog with a stare.

Realizing what she'd done, but not contrite, the big wolfhound tilted her head sideways and whined before trotting off down the path. She had a date with destiny and nothing, not even her beloved mistress, was going to stop her.

It was as much of an apology as Krista was going to get and she knew it. Mumbling beneath her breath she took her ire out on Dean who happened to be standing in front of her a crooked smile on his face. "This is your party crazy man," she growled, "You going or what?"

Without a word Dean spun a one-eighty and took off down the trail the smile quickly replaced by grim determination.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It had been a long day for Sam and Charlie. Shamus had let them sleep for a few hours. It wasn't enough. They were past exhaustion. They could barely move when the Clurichaun kicked and thrashed them back into the cave to unload his treasure.

Barrel after barrel of wine and ale was pulled from the carts and stacked against the wall.

Charlie was near to collapse when tragedy stuck. The barrel of wine slipped from his fingers to crash to the hard rock floor of the cave.

Sam sucked in a breath knowing what Shamus would do to the boy when he saw the cracked barrel. Hurrying forward he handed the barrel in his hands to Charlie and slid to his knees beside the broken barrel. Shamus hated him; it wouldn't be hard to convince the little monster to believe he had dropped the barrel and not Charlie.

He knew what was coming when seconds later the Clurichaun stood in front of him.

Shamus's jaw dropped open. Hurt and disbelief faded, replaced by a white-hot rage. The stick in his hand flew with magical speed as he pummeled the young hunter.

Sam tried to protect himself but the lash fell hard and strong cutting through the material of his shirt slicing into the skin below. Unable to stop himself he cried out as the lash flayed the skin from his back.

Above him Shamus ranted and kicked out with each downward swing of the lash. "You'll pay runtling, you'll pay with yer life fer breakin me barrel.

A few feet away Charlie cringed under the Clurichaun's vicious assault. He wanted to run and hide, but he couldn't. His friend was being beaten because of him.

For the first time in months Charlie took a stand against the foul creature who'd stolen his life. Climbing to his feet he took the barrel Sam had given him and threw it at Shamus's head, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs. "Stop Shamus, stop, Sam didn't break your barrel I did."

Through the red haze surrounding his mind Shamus felt the barrel bounce off his skull. Some deep sense of loss brought the Clurichaun around in time to catch the barrel before it smashed to the floor. Anger pulsed through the magical creature. The lash in his hand fell to the ground as he turned to face his attacker. With magical speed he crossed to Charlie. A ham size fist slammed into his young captive's chest, sending the boy flying backward.

Charlie tumbled across the cave, smacking into the wall. Tears of pain and anger coursed down the boy's face. He was tired, so very, very tired. Slowly he pushed himself up, his back resting against the wall. His gaze hardened as he stared at the Clurichaun.

"Get up on ter ur feet boy-o and finish movin me barrels afore I smack ya agin!"

Charlie growled a deep menacing growl that surprised the Clurichaun. "NO SHAMUS!" he shouted. "I won't be your slave anymore."

Shamus snarled his body shaking with rage as he stared at the boy. His hold over the frightened kid was slipping. He blamed it on Sam who lay gasping for breath a few feet away.

Sudden realization dawned. He needed the boy; up here in the wilds of the mountains it would be hard to replace him. He had to get his slave back under control, but how!

Time seemed to stand still. Muddy, blood shot eyes flicked from captive to captive. One had to go to gain control of the other.

On the ground his body curled into a fetal position Sam slowly opened his eyes as the silence of the cave penetrated the haze of pain surrounding him. Charlie's rebellion had stopped the beating, but Sam knew beyond any doubt that it would not end here.

The hunter's pain filled gaze caught the Clurichaun's. His death lay buried in those eyes. _"Dean," he screamed silently__**.**_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**I know this one is short - but another chapter will be posted tomorrow. **_

_**How much do we hate Shamus? I hope ur still enjoying me little story. More whumpage to come! A Little R & R would not go amiss.**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Darkness comes calling will he give in? A little Sam, Charlie angst for ya.**_

_**AAU 20 A Time of Reckoning**_

Carefully he tapped a new barrel of wine and filled his cup. He took a long loving sip and planned his revenge. When that was done he sighed and reached for another barrel. This one more ornate, the dark wood etched with Celtic runes, was carefully gathered into his arms and tucked close to his chest – his next offering to the gods. He'd found the perfect place. It was a quiet little glade at the far end of the plateau. Thieves would have to cross in front of his cave to reach it. They would pay dearly if they did. He would let nothing touch his offering from this day forth.

Thinking food would appease his captive he took a carelessly wrapped bundle from his pile of stores and moved toward his captives. His eyes glared his anger as he looked at them.

Mumbling beneath his breath he waddled through the cave. Throwing the package into Charlie's lap he ambled out of the cave into the afternoon sunshine.

Tearing open the package Shamus had thrown him Charlie dunked the rag in the cool spring before he skittered across the cave floor to sit beside Sam.

Gingerly the young hunter sat up gasping as the torn skin on his back stretched and tore open once again. He felt the slick warmth of his blood trickling down his back.

Gently Charlie pulled the material of Sam's shirt away from the cuts. The rag in his hand dabbed at the blood, washing it away. He wished he could as easily wash away the despair he now held in his heart. He felt his friend's body stiffen and shudder with each dab of the harsh material, but he didn't utter a sound.

When the blood was washed away Sam felt the boys hand carefully touch his shoulder to get his attention.

"I'm sorry," Charlie murmured. "You shouldn't have done that."

Sam saw his own pain mirrored in the boy's eyes. He sucked in a breath at the look on the boy's face. The hope he'd once felt was gone, Charlie was beyond caring anymore.

"It'll be ok Charlie, please don't give up. You have to hang on a little longer. My brother's coming; he's not far away now."

"You don't know that," the boy cried frantically. "You don't know what it's been like. For you it's only been a few days. For me…" he stopped as the tears welled up in his eyes. His voice was laced with bitterness when he continued. "For me, it's been a lifetime. I can't do it anymore. I won't," he croaked hoarsely.

Mindless of the spiking pain across his back and shoulders Sam leaned forward and gathered the shaking boy into his arms. "We can't let the bastard win Charlie. I know you hurt, but you can't give up."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hours later Shamus shuffled back into the cave. Carrying his half-filled mug he downed the fiery liquid and relished the taste of the wine as it slithered down his throat. Trudging toward his treasure, the Clurichaun kicking dirt and rocks on his captives as he walked by, snickering in glee as he did so.

Sam eyed the creature warily. He knew he was living on borrowed time. He's seen the hatred building in the Clurichaun's eyes. It was only a matter of time before he acted. Somehow he had to stay alive until Dean could find him. His brother was coming for him, he was close the young hunter could feel it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Shamus was in a foul mood. Shuffling through the cave he grumbled beneath his breath. Their clumsiness had cost him dearly. He'd found several more of his prized barrels of wine had broken open during the journey, spilling his precious liquid into the dirt. From the corner of his eye he stared at his captives his lips tilted into an ugly grin. He'd threatened and cajoled but they had refused to get back to work. He had been forced into using his precious magic to move the rest of the barrels. Plotting his revenge against them brought a sneering smile to his thick lips.

Hours later, his magic was spent, his body drained of energy when the last barrel was moved. The runtling would pay and soon. He just needed time to gather his strength and replenish his energy. Draining the last drop of wine from his mug Shamus found a soft spot and curled into a ball falling quickly asleep.

It was still daylight when he awoke. His warped mind was fuzzy with sleep and drink. He sat up. It was time. He could feel his magic flowing strong and steady once again.

Leaving his cup sitting on the ground he stood and shook the dirt from his clothes, an evil grin tilting purple lips into a snarling smile. It was past time!

Sam dozed fitfully, the ache in back keeping him from getting any real rest. If he thought he was tired before, now he felt completely drained. Blood loss had sapped what little strength remained to him.

Beside him Charlie slept, murmuring in his sleep crying out every so often when his dreams took control.

The young captive sighed in his sleep as the nightmare faded, replaced with a soft familiar lullaby. The sound played in his mind, soothing his fears. It was a song his mother sang. A tune his sister loved.

A pretty face with laughing eyes flashed thorough his mind. In sleep he knew her, knew her name. "Angela," he whispered. In sleep she comforted him, washing away his fears, her memory kept him warm and free of the horror he faced on waking. She was the light at the end of his darkest tunnel. All too soon the comforting dream faded and he woke slowly to face the horrors of his world once more.

Both men were startled when Shamus came rumbling through the cave. "Wake up ya lazy sots." Kicking at the ground he again sprayed them with sand and rocks. Making sure they were awake he tried for an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry I got testy with ya boy-o's. That was a fine barrel of wine ya lost me this day."

Sam narrowed his eyes, wondered what the little monster was up to now. He was up to something and that spelled disaster. Knowing he surely hadn't forgotten or forgiven them for the broken wine barrel. Revenge was more his style. Sam sucked in a breath and waited.

The Clurichaun's voice changed. The next few words were spoken in a pleasant lilting brogue. "Come on runtling, time to get yer self outside. Start us a fire 'n I'll go find a rabbit fer yur dinner. What do ya say to that?" He didn't wait to see what Sam would say but continued to walk toward the cave entrance.

Before he could move the shackles embedded in the wall broke free. Sam scrambled to his feet only to crash back to the ground.

With a flick of his finger the Clurichaun snapped the chain tight. The malicious little smile went unseen as he heard the runt crashed to the ground behind him. He snickered quietly and pasted a contrite look on his face as he spun to face his captive. "Ahh boy it's sorry I am. I didn't mean to hurt ya now." Shamus waited until Sam was on his feet before he moved again. Turning back he waited until the clanking of chains indicated his captive was on the move.

Slowly he walked to the mouth of the cave. With Sam following, Shamus moved toward the tree line as close to the edge of the cliff as he could without going over. With a flick of his finger the chain in his hands flew outward, embedding the iron stake into the base of the big Pine Tree. With a sly smile, he watched as the runtling was jerked off his feet once again. He turned away as if he hadn't seen the cause and effect of his action.

Sam hit the ground for the second time. The wind flew from his lungs, the cuts of his back roared to life sending waves of scorching agony flooding through his body. He bit back the scream of agony.

The hunter felt the darkness rising around him. Relief was slow in coming.

He wanted so much to give in to the weakness and pain. Forget it all and sleep for eternity. He couldn't, Charlie needed him, and Dean needed him to stay alive.

The injured hunter pulled in a deep breath and rolled to the side relieving the pressure off his back. Taking a strangled, pain laced breath, he fought the lure of unconsciousness. Pushing at the darkness he waited for the pain and the darkness to fade.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Are we there yet, are we there yet! Yes Yes Yes!! Well almost! LOL**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Here is another chapter for your reading pleasure. Enjoy and please take a moment to review and let me know what you think. Huggers!**_

_**AAU 21 Boiling Point**_

As they neared the end of the trail the big Wolfhound growled deep in her throat and leaped into the woods. The climb up the side of the mountain was steep and treacherous but her long legs pushed hard attacking the dangerous terrain. Leap after wild leap she struggled upward. With a final push she crested the edge of the cliff and settled to the ground her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Below her Krista whispered her name calling her back, but the call went unheeded. Reaching level ground she turned and lay down watching Krista and Dean. The big Wolfhound sighed, leaving this way was causing her mistress pain, but it had to be done.

"Krista," Dean growled touching her arm lightly to draw her attention. "It's time, remember what I told you. Stay low, keep close to the hillside and stay hidden for as long as you can."

The ranger nodded pushing at the unease that had settled around her heart. Duchess was all she had and now even the quiet comfort of the dogs' presence was gone. She prayed the Wolfhound wouldn't get herself killed.

"I know Dean. I have to press the medallion against the creature's skin. It will nullify his magic." Blue eyes traced the trail the Wolfhound had taken, her worry more for the dog than for herself.

Dean turned Krista to face him and slowly pushed back a lock of hair that had escaped its confines. "The Duchess will take care of herself Krista. Time to focus on the job ahead, our lives and hers depend on it."

"I know," she ground out. Frustrated by her fear and the Wolfhounds abandonment she let the anger at the whole situation flow through her. It was time to rid the world of the vicious creature.

Running his thumb across her cheek he stepped back. "Time to rock and roll," he growled. The shotgun came up as he spun away heading for the end of the trail and a showdown. Sam was waiting!

Krista mumbled beneath her breath, mirroring the hunter's words. "Time to rock and roll," her left hand wrapped around the medallion hovering over her heart. She felt the warmth of its magic flare lending her strength.

A hundred feet above them, hidden in the trees the wolfhound climbed to her feet. On silent paws she made her way across the rock strewn ground toward her destination. Her head hung low her teeth bared, ready to sink her sharp teeth into the creature's neck. It was time for vengeance, it would not be long.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sam lay on the ground where he'd fallen. Breathing was hard. The fall had pushed the air from his lungs. He lay there helplessly. At the mercy of the crazed creature he had come to despise above all else.

Behind him at the mouth of the cave he heard Charlie's cry of pain as the Clurichaun yanked the chains shackled to the boy's ankles. He turned, anger flaring as he watched the boy fall sideways.

Charlie fell hard, his left shoulder striking the ground first. Even from this distance he could hear the crack of bone against the rock. He winced when a cry of pain was torn from the boy's throat.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Shamus was done with pretense. "Yer punishment is yet to come boy-o. Ye think to defy me! Ya cannot win boy. If'n ya want to eat, ya gots to work. No more mollycoddling. Now on yer feet boy-o, I'm gonna make sure ya never defy me again – NEVER!" The creatures screamed.

Charlie lay still his eyes flashing angrily. "No Shamus, I'd rather die than be trapped here with you."

Shamus whirled to face Charlie. Openhanded, he slammed the boy across the face, splitting his lip. "It ain't yerself that's gonna die boy, but the runtling. If'n you don't do as I say he'll end up at the bottom of the cliff all broken and smashed. Can ya live with his death on yer conscience boy-o?"

Charlie cried out a trembling hand came up to swipe at the blood flowing down his chin. It wasn't submission that sparked in the youth's eyes it was hatred.

Shamus chuckled and swiped his bloody hand across his leg. "What say you boy-o? Time to get ya to work or shall I send the runt over the edge.

He didn't want Sam to die, he wouldn't be able to live knowing Sam had died because of him. Charlie knew beyond all doubt that Shamus would kill him if he didn't comply. Broken at last Charlie slumped to the ground. The anger faded, as did the hope that Sam had brought with him. His voice was low, the sound heartbreaking as he whispered his assent. "I'll work Shamus, don't hurt him."

Shamus cackled gleefully, "I did na here ya boy, what did ya say?'

Charlie looked up his words achingly soft as he spoke. "I won't defy you any more Shamus, I promise, only don't hurt him. I'll do anything you want."

"Anything I want?" Shamus stood over him his fist ready to slam the boy again. "I think yer lyin boy-o," he snarled. "I'm gonna make sure ya never defy me again."

Jumping back the Clurichaun yanked at the chains, chuckling when he heard the boy's suppressed groan of agony. "Yes boy-o you will never defy me again. I'll show ya what will happen if'n ya do.

He didn't let the boy gain his feet but dragged him across the ground before embedding the chains into the tree beside Sam. Turning to face Sam he grinned, a slick, evil grin.

Sam didn't have long to wait before the Clurichaun struck. Shamus loved the sound of his captives' pain as he kicked the young hunter in the shoulder and again in the back.

"Yer a thorn in me side runtling. I will nah have it, time to pull the thorn and cleanse the wound. It's past time fer ya da die, past time," he chuckled maliciously.

A few feet away Charlie heard the words, fear clutched at his heart. "No Shamus, no," he screamed. "You promised."

Lightening fast Shamus crossed the distance sending a large hairy foot slamming into Charlie's gut. "Shut up boy-o, this is yer punishment for spilling me wine." Grabbing Charlie by the front of his shirt Shamus pulled him close. His hot fetid breath blew across the boy's face. "Watch and learn boy-o, cause if'n ya don't you'll be next. It will na be hard to replace ya so just remember it boy-o."

Charlie fell back to ground a great sobbing cry hung in his throat. "No Shamus, no," he cried over and over as he watched the Clurichaun stride away. The Clurichaun's evil laughter filled the air.

Sam lay on the ground and stared at the maniacal creature as he threatened the boy. He knew what was coming when Shamus spun to face him. The evil smile on the creature's face sent fear tumbling through him. He'd seen it before, but the truth stared at him from Shamus's eyes. The time of his death lay close.

All he could think about as he scrambled away into the underbrush beside the tree was his brother. Dean wasn't going to make it. His brother would never know what had happened to him.

The Clurichaun chuckled as he neared his fleeing captive. "Whatz the matter runtling, do ya think ya can escape me?" Reaching for the chain attached to Sam's ankle he pulled it from the tree.

Lulled by the peace and quiet of his new home and its distance from the human world, Shamus had pulled back the magic that protected him. He was safe he told himself he didn't need to waste the energy any longer.

Suddenly Sam's booted foot snaked out catching him in the jaw watching with hatred blazing in his eyes as Shamus shrieked in surprise.

Unprepared the Clurichaun fell backwards howling in pain and rage.

Sam was down but he wasn't out – at least not yet. Yanking the chain from the Clurichaun's hands he spun the heavy metal in an arc above his head before slamming it into Shamus's skull.

The Clurichaun wailed in pain as the chain struck him across the cheek. The rusty metal cut deep splitting the skin wide. Blood gushed from the wound. A beefy hand reached up to cover the cut, coming away slick with his own blood. Shock registered on the Clurichaun's face, shock and a gruesome hatred.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She raced through the woods dodging trees and bushes as she heading for the cliff above Shamus's cave. The big Wolfhound could smell the enemy, the putrid scent fueling her hatred. Soon very soon she would have the creature's neck between her teeth.

Closing in on her target she slowed her head dropping low her teeth bared in hatred. Seconds later she reached the edge of the cliff overlooking the small plateau. Movement at the far side of the clearing drew her attention. At the sight of her enemy sitting on the ground his life's blood streaming down his neck she grinned in anticipation. It was time to rid the world of his evil. Creeping forward she dropped her front feet over the edge and leaped.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Nearing the clearing Dean heard the creatures howl of pain. Breaking into a run, he brought the shotgun up, ignoring the pain that seared through his injured shoulder. Instead, the hunter embraced it, gritting his teeth in determination he raced out of the tree line into the clearing, his eyes wide with shock at the scene before him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Clurichaun flicked his hand and sent the young hunter crashing into the tree.

Stunned Sam slide sideways and gasped for breath. His body echoed with the shock of impact. Numb fingers loosed their grip on the rusty chain. The darkness of unconsciousness closed in around him.

"Yer dead runtling, ya hear me yer DEAD!" Shamus screamed in rage. Metal clanged against metal. The chain flew through the air. Shamus caught it with ease. Wrapping his hand around it he snapped it tight. The cuffs cut deep into his victim's ankles as he dragged Sam forward.

Shamus had wanted to torture his captive, make his death slow. The runtling's attack had surprised him, adding fuel to the rage burning in his heart. Hand over fist he hauled on the chain dragging his victim forward. "Dead, dead, dead," the Clurichaun chanted.

Opening his fist Shamus reached out. Magic flared and Sam's body snapped upward. The young hunter's head lolled sideways barely aware of the fist that wrapped itself in his tattered shirt. "I'm done with yer trouble," he seethed.

The Clurichaun's magic flared bright as Sam's limp body was lifted high above the creatures head. Cackling laughter filled the clearing as the Clurichaun heaved his captive into the air and shoved him toward the cliff. "Time ya learnt ta fly runtling,"

The sound of gunfire split the hushed silence of the little clearing.

Dean lowered the still smoldering weapon slightly and saw that while the Clurichaun stumbled from the impact, he did not go down. _Sunova…._ He could only stare in shocked disbelief knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do. He broke into a run, yet knowing he would never be able to close the distance between them in time. Pain like nothing he'd ever known stabbed through his heart.

He watched his brother fly through the air. His body landed with a sickening thud inches from the cliff's edge. But it didn't end there. The events seemed to slow down in his mind as Sam's tumbling momentum carried him over.

"SAM!" he screamed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**A nasty Cliffi! Will Sam plummet to his death – maybe – maybe not – you'll have to stay tuned in, until the next chapter to find out. It's coming soon.**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**Here's another chappie for you reading pleasure. Thanks to all of you for reading this "off the wall" little fic. Special thanks to those who have reviewed. I love hearing from you.**_

**_To my wonderful Beta Jackfan2 - huggers and thank you!_**

Now on to the story!

_**AAU 22 End of the Trail**_

Dean's raging scream echoed through the mountains startling the birds from their perch.

Shamus stumbled as the shotgun's pellets assaulted him. Pain tore through his body, weakening his hold on his captive. A throw that should have sent the young hunter's body hurtling into the void fell short.

Huddled behind the tree, Charlie watched in shocked horror. Drawing on courage he didn't know he possessed, the boy scrambled to his feet and threw himself forward, grabbing for Sam. A sharp cry was torn from his throat when Sam rolled away over the edge of the cliff.

Scrambling for a hold Charlie grabbed the chain snaking across the ground. The rusty metal bit into his skin, desperately he tried to hold on. He was unprepared for the 200 lbs of dead weight when Sam's body hit. Soundlessly, he gritted his teeth against the pain as the rusty metal tore into the palms of his hands. He only knew he had to hold on. But Sam outweighed him and the weight of man and chain pulled the boy forward.

Seconds later he felt the shackles around his ankles tighten and bite deep into the skin. Desperately, he tried to hold onto the chain, hold on to Sam. "I'm sorry Sam," he cried out as the chain continued to slip through his fingers.

A dark shape shot by him. The Wolfhound clamped her powerful jaw on the chain and dug her claws into the earth. She did not waiver as the pain of Sam's weight shot through her lower jaw. She held tighter in a desperate attempt to stop their forward momentum.

Behind her, Charlie wrapped his hands around the chain ignoring the tearing agony. Together boy and Wolfhound stopped the chain's rapid slide over the cliff.

Duchess yanked and pulled and with Charlie's help they managed to gain enough slack on the chain to wrap the rusted metal around a large stump, effective halting Sam's tumble.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Clurichaun yowled in pain as the shotgun fired again and again.

The sound of Krista's snub nosed .38 chimed in, the bullets striking the Clurichaun in the chest and shoulder.

With each strike Shamus stumbled backward, the agony of metal tearing through his body. Strength wavered and he pitched sideways hitting the ground hard. He flailed wildly trying to scrape at the blaze of agony that was now embedded into his skin. The iron pellets had gone deep interrupting the flow of magic.

Dean's heart was ravaged. When Sam disappeared over the cliff so too did everything Dean was; his life, his work, his purpose, gone. Life no longer held any meaning. Grief stricken, enraged and with nothing more to lose, he recklessly rushed at the Clurichaun. The shotgun was empty, but it didn't matter. Expertly he flipped the weapon and caught it by the still heated barrel, unaware of the physical pain as emotional agony of his loss overrode the searing of the flesh of his hands.

A cry of despair tore from his lungs as he closed in on the dazed creature. The pain from the still heated barrel in his hands went unnoticed and he drew back the shotgun and swung it like a baseball bat. When it connected, the hard wood splintered and cracked in his hand tearing the stock into pieces.

Shamus grunted and his head snapped sideways from the brutal force of the blow. His teeth rattled, his eyes rolled but he didn't loose consciousness. Self-preservation kicked in. The Clurichaun rolled away from the enraged hunter needing time to gather his magic.

Dean would never forgive himself for not getting there in time. A terrible aching rage was building inside him. The least he could do was rid the world of the foul creature that had killed his brother.

The metal in his hand came around in a swinging arch above his head.

The blow would have killed any mortal creature, but Shamus's magic flared and sparked as the iron barrel connected with his skull.

The impact jarred through the hunter. Flames burst upward across the metal and exploded sending the hunter spinning backward. The blazing metal flew through the air landing with a hiss only a few feet from Dean's feet. Smoke rose from the twisted metal as it seared the grass.

The hunter lay flat on his back where the collision of iron and magic had thrown him. Aching lungs tried desperately to draw air, his heart fluttered in his chest. Stars burst into view when he tried to open his eyes.

Every move was sheer agony but he managed, through force of will to gain his feet. "You can rest when you're dead," he mumbled to himself. Rage fueled his desire for revenge, to wrap his fingers around the creature's neck. He wanted to see the creatures fear, wanted to feel the joy of breaking every bone in its body.

From the corner of his eye he saw movement to his left. He smiled a slow twisted little smile that didn't reach his eyes. Pulling the Glock from the small of his back he raised it high. He needed to keep the creatures attention riveted on him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Krista swallowed hard. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest at the sight of the creature writhing only few feet away. The weapon was hot in her hand the chambers empty and still the creature somehow survived. Shoving the gun back into the holster she watched in agonized silence as Dean fought the manaical monster. Her part in this was fast approaching. Sinking low she followed the treeline and skittered across the ground to hide beind a huge rock a few feet from where Dean and the monster battled.

Pulling the medallion from around her neck she held it between her palms waiting for the right moment. The metal reacted instantly sending a slight electrical shock through her body. She gasped and knew the time was right, it was now or never! The metal grew warm and she sprang to her feet, leaving the cover of the rocks she sprinted forward. She had to reach the writhing Clurichaun quickly while he was vulnerable.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Shamus had never felt such pain in all his years of existence. Searing agony tore through his body. The iron now embedded in his skin was poison to the magical creature. Shamus pulled deep from the power in his black soul and gathered his magic. He felt the energy sputter and die then flare brightly once more.

A red haze of hatred glowed in the creature's eyes. A spark of orange, tiny as a marble, appeared in his hand. It grew quickly, the flames growing brighter until it reached the size of basketball.

Snickering, evil laughter erupted through the clearing as the Clurichaun lifted the fireball and prepared to throw. Bloody lips twisted into a sneering grin, he wanted to watch the human that had caused him so much pain burn. He wanted see its mortal flesh peel away from its body. He wanted to dance in the ash that had once been this man.

Shamus shrieked a cry to battle. He wanted to see the human's face. Watch the horror of knowing he was about to be incinerated.

He was sadly disappointed.

Dean snarled in rage and pulled the trigger.

It wasn't horror on the hunter's face. Instead, it was rage and hatred the Clurichaun saw, and something else.

Shamus saw movement flickering from his left, but he was too late to defend himself.

The medallion burst to life, the hound nestled in the green Celtic shield knot bayed its pleasure when Krista slammed the pendant against the Clurichaun's neck. She held on tight gritting her teeth against the shock as the magic tore through her. Silver chimed its contentment as it sucked the Clurichaun's magic dry. The center of medallion glowed a dark emerald green as the four-leaf clover burned its mark into the creature's skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the little clearing as the medallion melded with the leathery tissue.

Shamus screamed in agony, his very essence was ripped from his body. Everything he was, was suddenly torn from him, leaving only a mortal shell in its wake. The leeching complete, Shamus was no longer the powerful Clurichaun, but the very thing the boy had named him days ago; a dwarf.

The fireball in the Clurichaun's hand exploded. Blistering flames blasted through the clearing, knocking the three combatants to the ground. Searing heat washed over them sucking the oxygen from the air.

The Clurichaun's body convulsed. He shook uncontrollably as the last of his magic faded away. Gasping for air, he lay flat on his back numb with shock. A trembling hand reached up to scrape at the metal now embedded into his skin.

Heat seared and scorched the flesh of his fingers. He ignored it as he dug into his neck trying to dislodge the medallion, to no avail. Shamus rolled to his feet his eyes searching for the one who had done this to him.

He found her lying a few feet away.

Like a drunken sailor he stumbled forward hatred blazing from his eyes.

A few feet away Krista groaned and took in a ragged breath, oxygen once again filling her lungs. Slowly her eyes fluttered open and she blinked away the fog only to see the creature lumbering toward her.

Weaponless, she crab walked backward, away from his approach. When the creature lifted one bloody hand toward her she screamed, "Dean!"

After that, Krista's world exploded in pain as his iron fist crashed against her skull. Suddenly airborne, she flew sideways and struck the ground hard. Blood flowed from her cheek as she lay stunned, unable to move.

Still feeling the effects of the initial blast, Dean lay in a crumbled heap where he'd landed. Dazed, his graying vision beckoned him into darkness, but at Krista's cry he struggled back to consciousness. Determination suddenly gave him strength; while he couldn't save Sam, he'd be damned if he loose Krista too.

Every bone in his body protested as he got to his feet. Grunting with the effort he scanned the ground for a weapon before his eyes caught sight of the twisted metal of his Glock. The gun had once been his favorite and now it lay only a few feet away, a worthless hunk of metal.

Bending forward, teeth gritted in agony, he pulled the big blade from its resting place at his ankle. It was all he had left. Taking a deep shuddering breath he rushed forward the blade held high.

Something gave him away, maybe a look in Krista's eyes, but Shamus threw himself sideways a split second before the hunter struck.

Just as quickly, Dean adjusted. With lightning reflexes he twisted right and plunged the blade into the Clurichaun's shoulder. Dean swore angrily; he'd been aiming for the creature's heart (if it had one) but the sudden move had spoiled the hunter's aim. The blade broke and his fist came away with only the hilt in his hand. He swore and tossed the broken piece at the creature's head.

A scream of pure agony tore through the clearing. The hot metal lay buried deep in his body. Scrambling to his feet Shamus once again faced his enemy.

Even without his magic the Clurichaun was a formidable opponent. Shamus growled and leaped into battle. His stocky body flew forward crashing into Dean and taking him to the ground. Rock hard fists pummeled at the hunter.

Exhausted and injured Dean returned punch for punch but nothing seemed to work. He felt helpless, like he was swatting at flies instead of a flesh and blood creature. Each blow he delivered sent shock waves up his arms. It was like the creature was made of stone, its hide thick and dense. Scrambling, his mind sought another solution; he had to find a way to stop the creature. Destroying the magic hadn't been enough. Even wounded the damn Clurichaun seemed unstoppable.

Yet Shamus felt every blow the hunter delivered.

His body mass was denser than a human's but he could still be hurt and the man he held in his fist was hurting him badly. Blood streamed down his face, one eye was nearly closed, the lid swollen and purple. Panic rose up inside him. The loss of his magic had scared him badly. For the first time in a thousand years he thought about his death.

Dean growled deep in his chest. His knuckles were torn and bloody. The cast on his left arm was showing the stress of being cracked against the Clurichaun's rock hard skull. The hunter's eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with the strain to pull in some air. Yet it all seemed so hopeless.

Together they rolled and tumbled toward the cliff's edge. Dean saw the danger and planned accordingly. If weapons and fists couldn't kill the creature maybe a thousand foot drop to the rocky canyon below would. Determined he aimed for the cliff's edge prepared to sacrifice himself if need be to rid the world of this foul monster.

Shamus too saw the danger. He needed to rid himself of the human before they both ended up at the bottom of the cliff. A huge fist came around and slammed into the side of Dean's skull.

The shock of the blow sent the hunter reeling sideways. Stars exploded where they shouldn't have. Vision blurred, his body numb, he felt the creature's fingers wrapped around his neck. Fat fingers squeezed cutting off his air.

Dean growled his rage and kicked at the Clurichaun, his booted foot connecting with the creature's shin. The blow cut through the material of Shamus's pants and sliced into the skin beneath. Desperate for air, Dean brought his left hand up and smashed the hard plaster cast into the creature's skull. The hunter growled and curled his fingers into the creatures shirt dragging him close

A yelp of pain was torn from the Clurichaun's throat he stumbled but didn't go down. Struggling against his attacker's resistance Shamus tightened his grip and dragged his enemy closer to the cliff's edge.

The Clurichaun knew he had to render his enemy unconscious if he was going to survive. In desperation, he released one hand from around the human's neck and reared back, his fist balled and ready to strike the final blow.

Feeling the pressure around his neck ease slightly Dean pushed hard against the Clurichaun's chest hoping to snap the creature's hold. Unbalanced, he felt his left foot slide over the edge of the cliff where it found no purchase. Eyes wide, he realized his own hold had slipped instead of the Clurichauns and he swore angrily: Had he failed again?

Shamus's cackling laughter filled the air in triumph.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Is it Dean's turn to go over the Cliff – maybe – maybe not LOL. Find out soon in the next edge of your seat – action packed episode!**_


	23. Chapter 23

**_AAU 23 On the Edge_**

Duchess growled beneath her breath but held onto the chain watching as the boy slowly anchored the links behind her.

Together Charlie and Duchess worked to pull Sam up. Inch by agonizing inch they pulled. Catching sight of a small intense light out of the corner of her eye, she dared to look up. The light suddenly expanded into a rapidly growing fireball that suddenly exploded across the clearing. The impact knocked her sideways but somehow she managed to stay on her feet with the chain still clamped tightly in her jaw.

However, the ground beneath her gave way as she slipped toward the edge, the weight of the chain pulling her forward.

There was desperation in her movements as she dug her paws into the hard ground and yanked harder on the chain. Seconds later she stopped the forward movement and the man behind her shouted for joy. Together they reclaimed their lost ground and the body they'd struggled to save came sliding back onto level ground. With a final tug, man and hound pulled an unconscious Sam to safety.

The big Wolfhound bounded away, her eyes fixed on her target. Her lips curled back displaying razor sharp teeth snapping in anticipation. The hatred she felt for the creature was an all-consuming fire as she closed the short distance between them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean was growing lightheaded. He could feel the hand squeezing harder, crushing his windpipe. Whatever he was going to do it had to be now.

What came next surprised them all.

The big wolfhound opened her mouth wide and leaped into the air.

Shamus wasn't prepared for the hundred plus pounds of raging fury that slammed into him. Sharp teeth clamped down on his neck and shoulder and the Clurichaun screamed in agony.

Shamus flew forward; his fingers releasing their death grip on the hunter's neck to flail wildly at the wolfhound.

Three bodies slammed to the ground, the hunter taking the brunt of the blow as the Clurichaun fell into him. Crack of bone against rock echoed through the clearing when the back of the hunter's head hit the ground. He lay still, numb with shock and pain unable to move, unable to draw breath through his ravaged throat. Somewhere in the darkness that closed in around him instinct kicked in. He had to move he had to open his eyes; the creature was still out there. Slowly, painfully he forced heavy lids open and turned at the sounds of a scuffle a few feet away. His eyes widened in shock at the sight.

Duchess clamped her jaw tighter and shook the creature she held tightly in her grip. Blood spurted from the wound on his neck; her teeth had hit the jugular.

Shamus screamed in agony, his fists battering at the creature now tearing at his flesh. His feet dug into the dirt pushing against the powerful creature, but he was slowly loosing ground.

The big Wolfhound barely felt the blows. A red haze of rage drove her and in its wake, she saw nothing, felt nothing except her hatred for the creature. Sharp claws raked the creature's back. Haunches strained against the resistance but hard muscles were coiled tight. Giving one last thrust she sent both of them over the edge.

Dean's eyes were wide as he watched hound and Clurichaun battle near the cliff's edge. His lungs screamed in protest as he tried desperately to draw air into his starving lungs. His arms felt like rubber and he barely kept himself upright as he pushed up to his knees.

From somewhere deep inside, he dragged the last remaining dregs of strength and leaped forward wrapping his arms around the Wolfhound's chest.

Clurichaun and Wolfhound hung suspended in the air. Within his grasp, he felt her body shaking but he held on as the weight of the Clurichaun dragged him ever closer to the edge.

"Duchess," Dean whispered. He had to try to convince the Wolfhound to let go before she too died. Finally, one thing came to mind. "It's done, let him go, Krista needs you," the hunter urged.

The big Wolfhound hesitated, growling in denial. Then, at the mention of Krista's name the red haze that surrounded her mind suddenly lifted and reality crashed to the forefront of her mind. With a final shake, she opened her jaw and watched as the Clurichaun fell. She wanted to watch, see him strike the ground but the arms around her lifted her up and dragged her back to safety. She howled in protest.

Dean laid still, the Wolfhound clutched close to his chest. Eyes closed, every breath came in ragged gasps through his ravaged throat, he could think of only one thing; his brother, lying broken at the base of the cliff. Numb with grief, he felt tears fill his eyes, soon the sheen of despair trickled down his cheeks.

Awareness returned slowly. Something was wrong. No not wrong, he mussed silently – different. Where once he had been clutching wiry Wolfhound hair, he now felt smooth human skin, _what the hell_?

His eyes flew open in shock to see the comely shape of naked girl clutched tightly in his arms. He swore softly and released his hold pushing himself back to stare at her in confusion.

With the death of the Clurichaun the magic that had bound the girl in the body of a wolfhound was broken.

Mary Elizabeth, Krista's sister rolled and stretched seemingly unaware of her nakedness. In fact Mary didn't seem to care if she was naked at all.

Dean huffed in confusion, his eyes snapping shut as she turned to face him.

Warm hands cupped his cheeks she leaned close and pressed her lips to his. "Thank you Dean," she whispered hoarsely.

When she let him go the hunter quickly stripped his T-shirt off and shoved it over her head.

Mary Elizabeth laughed and pushed her arms through the sleeves and dragged the warm material down over her hips.

Thankfully – at least for Dean's piece of mind – the soft cotton slipped below her hips, nearly to her knees. His mind quickly snapped back to the present almost all thoughts of the naked teenager wiped from his mind as he looked around. His eyes traveled across the clearing to where he saw Krista, unmoving and silent near a pile of rocks.

"Krista," he rasped out. A battered hand went to his damaged throat.

Mary Elizabeth shot to her feet quickly closing the distance to her sister's side. A hiss of fear escaped her when she saw the bruise and trickle of blood sliding down her older sibling's face. Gently she caressed her face and called her name, "Krista, don't leave me now."

When the older girl's eyes fluttered open, Mary Elizabeth sighed with relief. A smile tugged at her lips when those same eyes widened in shock.

"Am I dead?" Krista whispered.

"No silly, you hit your head. How do you feel?"

"How," Krista asked, "How is this possible? Oh my god Mary," she cried and flew upward her arms wrapping her sister in a bear hug that promised never to let go.

"I love you too, big sis," Mary whispered. "I love you sooo very much," she whispered brokenly.

"What happened," Krista asked in confusion. "Have you been with the creature the whole time?"

"No silly, I've been with you."

Krista's eyes flew around the clearing hunting for the big wolfhound. "Oh my god, Duchess – that was you, they whole time it was you."

"Yeah, and somehow I think you knew big sis, you named me Duchess after all."

Krista was at a loss for words, trembling arms reaching out she pulled her sister close. For five years she thought her dead, five long years of not knowing. Having her sister back was the most wonderful thing in the world, but the question still remained. She wanted, no needed to know what had happened that day, but it could wait.

Over her sister's shoulder she saw the hunter collapse back to the ground. Even from this distance she could see his bruised and battered body.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Well I hope you liked my little twist with the Wolfhound, maybe some of the confusion you had in earlier chapters has been resolved. I did my best to give The Duchess some human qualities. Hope you enjoyed it – but it's not over yet – more excitement yet to come!**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**A request has come forth for an epilogue so one is in the works. Once again thanks to all who have taken the time to read the story. I hope you enjoyed it.**_

_**Much hugs and kisses to my great beta Jackfan2 for letting me zig zag my way through this twisted little story!**_

_**AAU 24 Coming of Angels**_

Dean Winchester lay on the ground, his body thrumming with pain. While his shoulder burned with agony, his wrist was, thankfully, completely numb. The cast had shattered against the Clurichaun's rock hard skull but somehow it still incased his broken wrist providing some support.

Tears of loss filled his eyes. If he'd had the strength he would have sworn and kicked and broken something. He was still in shock; Sam was gone, thrown over the side of a cliff, and ripped from his life forever.

He didn't want to look, didn't want to see his brother's torn and broken body upon the jagged rocks a few hundred feet below. Instead, wanting only the peace of oblivion, he welcomed the darkness to engulf him.

Shuffling sounds to his right made him turn his head and open his eyes. A ragged breath caught in his throat at the sight that was surely a ghostly apparition.

"Sam?" he whispered brokenly. Dean stared at the vision a moment more, "Oh god Sam." Mindless of the pain that tore through his broken body, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Dean," the apparition whispered back.

He didn't know how he got to his feet, he had to be dreaming or maybe he was dead after all. His eyes bore into the man standing at the edge of the trees. "Sam," he whispered silently.

Drinking in the sight of each other they stared in shocked disbelief.

"Dean!"

"Sam!"

They whispered simultaneously.

"I knew you'd come," the young hunter whispered brokenly. "I knew you'd find me." On wobbly legs the brothers stumbled to close the distance between them.

Closer to his big brother, Sam looked at Dean in shock. Covered in blood from head to foot, clothes torn and shredded, he was a mess of ragged wounds, some slightly healed, others very fresh. Moving quickly he stepped in and wrapped his arms around his brother.

Dean felt only the warmth of his brother's arms and he returned the hug wrapping trembling arms around his brother's chest. This was no ghost he held; this was really and truly his brother.

"God Sam, I thought…." He didn't want to utter the words for fear he was dreaming. If it was a dream he didn't want to wake up didn't want to let go of his brother ever again.

"I know Dean, but I'm here, really here," the young hunter whispered reassuringly.

Dean held on tight until the dizziness finally overwhelmed him. "I missed ya bitch," he murmured before his knees buckled.

"I missed you too jerk," Sam whispered affectionately.

Sam hissed and clutched at his brother's limp body. Slowly he lowered himself to the ground cradling Dean in his lap. "Hang in there Dean," he whispered.

"Easy for you to say," the injured hunter groaned. He wanted desperately to sleep, but the need in Sam's eyes kept him from giving in to the darkness that hovered close.

Desperately the young hunter looked around searching for help. From behind him he heard Charlie's shuffling stride. To his left he saw two unfamiliar figures. His brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a young girl wearing a familiar shirt, Dean's favorite Metallica T-shirt as a matter of fact. For the first time he notice his brother's chest was bare.

"Hey," he screamed trying to catch their attention. "I need some help over here."

Krista spun at the sound of Sam's voice and sucked in a breath at the sight of Dean lying so still, cradled in his brother's arms. Pushing herself up she stumbled as rubbery legs somehow heeded her command to move. "Oh Dean,' she whispered.

Thinking quickly, she searched the ground for her backpack hoping its contents were still intact. Seconds later she found it lying in the dirt a few feet away and retrieved it. With shaking hands she rummaged through the pockets searching for the satellite phone she knew was somewhere inside. Trembling from shock her fingers found what they sought; a satellite phone. Frantic, she dialed the number for Search and Rescue, thankful that the phone's GPS system gave the exact coordinates of their location.

The call was answered and Krista sighed with relief. "This is Ranger Fitzgerald, I have injured hikers and need immediate assistance," she stated quickly.

The quiet competent voice at the other end soothed Krista's ragged nerves. Closing the connection she hurried to Dean's side. Capable hands skimmed his body searching for wounds that needed immediate attention.

Behind them Charlie's shuffling stride drew all eyes.

Dean looked up at his brother, his words slurred as he spoke, "Tha' mus' be Charlie?"

"Yup," Sam answered quickly. "He saved my life Dean. He and a big scruffy dog grabbed the chain before it slid over the edge. I don't know how they did it, but they pulled me back up."

Dean eyed his brother and chuckled slightly and regretted it immediately. Sucking in a breath, his right hand fell outward landing on the young girl's knee. "Sam, I'd like you to meet the big scruffy dog."

Sam tilted his head, his gaze flitting from brother to girl in confusion.

"Long story Sam. Stupid Magic," he grumbled.

Sam drew in a breath at the words. Putting two and two together he knew the girl had recently been none other than the big scruffy dog who had saved his life.

"I'm Sam and thank you," he whispered to the girl. A warm, genuine smile brought out the dimples and grateful puppy dog eyes sought hers.

Mary Elizabeth blushed hotly and mumbled, "Mary," she replied. "You're welcome," she breathed quietly. She was young and the handsome man in front of her made her heart thump wildly in her chest.

Dean sighed in contentment; the monster was dead, Sam and Charlie were safe. It had cost all of them dearly but it was over – finally over.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The air around them cooled suddenly. A sharp wind blew across the little plateau. All five of them drew in a hissing breath.

"Sam," Dean whispered wondering if the Clurichaun's spirit was coming back for revenge.

"I feel it Dean," the young hunter whispered.

"Weapons are gone," Dean growled as he tried to sit up. "The little bastard's bones are lying at the bottom of the cliff."

"Stay put Dean," Sam growled back.

All eyes flew to the sky above them as the clouds swirled above their heads. Gray clouds lightened seconds before a flash of lightening split the sky. A loud crack of thunder followed, exploding around them to echo through the mountains.

Five pairs of eyes stared into the swirling vortex that was quickly closing in around them. As it drew closer the clouds quickly changed colors, blues, reds, yellows, purples, oranges and greens formed a swirling kaleidoscope above them. The vortex slowed its descent bringing a quiet calm to the small clearing.

A feeling of peace washed over them, warming their very souls.

It started as a silvery glow in the center of the rainbow. Then, a tiny figure formed and slowly descended toward them.

From behind Sam, Charlie jumped to his feet. "Oh GOD NO," he screamed in despair. "Don't let it be true," he cried hoarsely.

In his brother's arms Dean sucked in a choking breath. Memories of that first day when Sam had come into the motel room flooded through him. That was the piece of the puzzle he'd been missing. The obituary he'd seen on Sam's computer had confused the hell out of him that day.

He swore softly beneath his breath, the little girl in the park and in the hospital, the little girl that had sent a flood of healing warmth through his body was dead. Killed in the car accident the same day as her brother – Charlie had gone missing. "Dammit Sammy," he whispered brokenly.

Sam's eyes flew to the figure slowly descending from the clouds. He watched in shocked confusion. He wanted to cry at the forlorn, miserable look on the young boy's face. The little girl sitting alone on a park bench had been a ghost after all. No not a ghost, he suddenly realized, Angela was an Angel.

Charlie stood tall, his hands outstretched as the tears fell unchecked down his face. Tears of sorrow washed the grime away, but couldn't wash away the heart wrenching guilt that flooded through him, "Angela,' he cried softly, "No."

"Hi Charlie," the ethereal voice whispered. "I'm so glad Sam and Dean found you, I knew they would. I sent them." Silvery eyes gazed sorrowfully at the motley group in front of her.

"Why Angela?" Charlie cried.

"I don't know Charlie; he said it was time for me to go. He needed me. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay with you and mom, but he wouldn't let me."

Charlie nearly shouted the words at the injustice of taking a young girl from this life, "Who Angie, who said you had to go? I need you here," he cried. "I need you here," he whispered brokenly.

"You know who _he_ is Charlie," she whispered reverently.

"I told him you needed me, told him I wanted to lie beside you in the grass staring up into the sky looking for shooting stars. I told him I wanted to chase rainbows and talk to fairies with you. I didn't want to go, but he said you would be all right. I believe him," she cried softly.

"Just remember that I will always love you. So chase some more rainbows Charlie and laugh with the fairies, because no matter where you go or what you do I'll be there with you. I'm your Guardian Angel now," the little girl whispered. "Nothing will ever hurt you again, I promise."

Charlie hit his knees his hands coming up to cover his face as the tears streamed down his cheeks. Gut wrenching sobs tore through is body. He shook with the knowledge that his little sister was gone from his life forever.

"Oh Charlie," the little girl whispered. She didn't know what to do; it hurt more than anything to see her brother so distraught. Gliding forward her misty form wrapped around the crying boy.

Ever so slowly the tears subsided leaving Charlie drained, but somehow content. The tiny Angel washed away his sorrow.

Silvery hands held his face close. A butterfly kiss caressed his cheek. Her voice was low and filled with hope as he spoke to him. "Mom needs you Charlie, she loves you so much. She's been alone for too long. You have to go back to her now, she's waiting. You are all she has left."

Charlie looked up in surprise forgetting everything that was left behind. "Mom," he whispered fiercely.

"She's looking for you, its time to go home Charlie."

"Time to go home," he repeated slowly.

Around them four faces reflected the boys' sadness, the shine of tears in their eyes.

At his words a quiet contentment once again settled over the clearing as the shimmering form glided backward.

Angela faced them one by one.

"Your sister is home again Krista. In this world of sorrow you stayed strong and brought her home once again. Without you she would have perished years ago."

Turning slightly she gazed at the t-shirt clad teenager and sighed. "You must go back to the place of your parent's death Mary Elizabeth," Angela whispered.

The young girl winched and stepped back a look of horror on her face at the memory. Her first meeting with Clurichaun had torn her world apart. "I…"

A silvery hand reached up to caress the tear streaked face. "You must find them and bring them home Mary. Their spirits are restless; they need to know you and your sister are safe before they can find peace."

The teenager shook her head reluctantly. "I'll find them," she whispered resolutely. "We'll bring them home together," Mary whispered as she reached for Krista's hand.

"Together is forever," Angela whispered.

Turning to face the hunters the little Angel knelt in front of Sam and Dean. "Your bravery has saved many souls, Dean Winchester. Life has not been kind or easy for you. You must stay strong or the world will end in darkness. I wish I could help you, but it is not my place," she sighed unhappily. "There is only one person who can help you now. Only one person that can free you from your rash actions," she chided him.

"Who," Sam yelled quickly.

Angela rocked back on her heels and stood up staring at the young hunter. Her eyes took on a flinty hardness as she gazed at him. She ignored his question and assessed the man. She took a deep breath wondering if he was strong enough to survive what lay ahead of him.

Her voice was low, barely a whisper as she spoke. "There is a light inside you that burns with a fierce brightness Sam Winchester. But there is also a darkness in you, a darkness that will overwhelm you if you let it."

Sam hissed angrily, ready to refute the words. "I will never…"

She cut him off quickly, "Yes you will Sam," she whispered fiercely.

"No," Dean broke in. "I won't let it happen."

Angela sighed, "You can't stop it Dean. This fight is Sam's and Sam's alone. If he is strong enough he will survive. If not…" Her voice faded away as the sounds of a helicopter filled the sky. Help had arrived.

Her words tore through the hunters. Their eyes locked assessing each other, wondering what the future held for both of them. More sadness, they knew.

Reality had descended. "Goodbye," she whispered.

Around her shocked faces saw the sad little figure slowly fade away. The clouds overhead cleared revealing a deep blue sky and bright sunshine that filled them all with hope.

Their lives were now linked by sorrow, their tears bonding them for eternity.

Charlie would go home to his mother. He would live a life of love and laughter, sharing his world with his mother, teaching her to laugh along side him once again.

Miles away an old woman sat on her porch. A smile of pure joy lit her face. They were coming home.

Krista and Mary Elizabeth would find their parent's bones and bury them in a peaceful place beneath a large oak behind Krista's home. Their parents would be able to rest knowing their daughters were safe and together – forever.

As for Sam and Dean – who knew what the next bend in the road would bring them. Who knew what darkness lay ahead for them. For now Warrior and Seer were together again and that's all that mattered.

One thing they all knew for sure now was that Angels do live Amongst Us.

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

_**I hope the story kept you all in suspense and not too confused about Mary and Angela. Epilogue coming up!.**_

_**So who thinks Sam is going to go darkside to save his brother??**_


	25. Chapter 25

**_Hey all, I hope you enjoyed this story. I have another one ready to be posted in a day or so. If you thought this one was confusing - wee the next one is ten times more so. Thanks you all for reading and spending a few minutes reviewing. I appreicate all of you very very much. Huggers _**

**_AAU Angels Among Us - Epilogue_**

Grumbling beneath his breath he wiggled his fingers in disgust. The new cast itched worse than a dozen fireant bites. It was driving! Him! Crazy! Leaning against the side of the Impala, he twisted the screwdriver he'd lodged beneath the plaster to scrap desperately at the skin beneath the cast he sighed in relief.

"Dean quit," he heard Sam rumble.

Childishly he stuck out his tongue and continued to scratch at the annoying itches.

Four long days he'd spent in the hospital. Four days too many, and now they were trapped into some kind of face-to-face-emo-goodbye session, he sulked. A hasty exit was his preferred post-job modus opernadi, but injuries had prevented a hasty retreat.

God, he hated this part of the job. Why couldn't they all just wave goodbye from the other side of the street? No, here they all were moving in for the kill, blaring their emotions for the whole world to see. '_Chick flick crap_,' he grumbled.

When his brother limped across the grass to join him by the Impala, Dean's eyes softened. Sam had been in pretty rough shape when they'd arrived at the hospital. Cracked ribs, concussion, bruised and battered; he was a mess.

Across the top of the car they shared a look. Sam saw possibilities, Dean saw hope. Maybe they could beat this thing after all!

Enough of that crap the older hunter thought in amusement. A wicked grin twisted his lips. "You look like something the cat dragged in Sammy," he sniped, smiling when his brother rose to the bait.

"Yeah well, I wouldn't be too quick to look in the mirror Dean, one glimpse of that mug would shatter it. I don't think you can handle seven more years' bad luck!"

"Hey," Dean grumbled good-naturedly. "Ain't nothing wrong with this face. "

"_And seven more years would be good_," he thought silently. Humor faded as hazel eyes searched his brother's tired face. "You doing ok Sam? We can stay another couple of days if you want too."

"I'm good," Sam whispered. "Need to get the hell out of dodge and put some miles between us and this place."

"_Bury the memories_," he cried silently.

"Don't look now Sammy," Dean grumbled, "But here comes the Mongrel Horde."

Sam chuckled. "Don't you mean Mongol horde?"

"No Sammy I don't. Just look at them, a bunch of rabid dogs come to gnaw on a bone," the hunter grumbled.

"You are such a jerk Dean. All they want to do is say thanks. Will you quit acting like a spoiled baby?" Tempted to make the whaaaa crying sound, to taunt him Sam held his tongue not wanting to push his brother too far. It amazed him how much his brother hated the mushy stuff.

Dean eyed the crowd headed their way. Krista, Mary Elizabeth and their grandmother were crossing the street. He was surprised to see the doc walking beside Krista his hand resting possessively on her waist, a huge smile on his face. So the Lady Ranger had opened her heart after all. _Good for her_, he mussed silently.

A few feet behind them Charlie and his mom followed. For someone held captive and tortured for six months, the boy looked pretty damn good. His eyes were shining merrily as he regaled his mother with a story.

Charlie's Mother also looked better than when he'd first met her in the hospital before taking off to find Sam. With her son by her side, the sadness and despair he'd seen was gone. In its place, burned a fierce love for the boy who had miraculously returned to her.

Leaning down, Charlie scooped up a daisy and tucked it gently behind her ear.

The sound of her laughter, rusted by months of disuse, was still a beautiful thing to be heard, genuine and fulfilled. Charlie had rekindled the inner child within his mother's heart and brought back laughter into her life. Angela was gone, but never forgotten.

Krista reached them first, a grateful smile tilting her lips as she closed the distance to Dean's side and carefully wrapped him in a big hug, ever mindful of his injuries. "Thank you," she whispered fiercely. "You brought her back to me and I will never – ever forget that. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

A mischievous grin crossed the hunter's face. "How about we start payment off with a kiss," he murmured silkily. Without giving her time to think he pulled her close and kissed her passionately.

Krista was breathless and dizzy by the time he let her go.

Dean sighed, liking the feeling of her body close to his for once. His voice low and seductive he moved close and whispered into her ear, "I'll take another one of those next time I come back into town. Better yet, leave the doc and come away with me," he whispered.

Krista sighed; his kiss sent an electrical shock humming through her body. "_Damn, he could kiss_," she growled silently.

A tremulous sigh shook her body as he released his hold. The look on her face was precious. His gentle kiss had stolen her breath.

Hungrily she licked her lips wanting more.

Silently she appraised him. He was still the arrogant, pain in the ass Dean Winchester of a week ago, but hell, he sure knew how to kiss. She was more than tempted to lean in for another dose but sighed again and moved to his right. Her breath on the side of his neck sent a shiver racing down his back as she whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

"Come back soon Dean," she murmured seductively. Nipping at his ear she grinned and stepped back.

Dean yelped more from shock than anything else. You'd think he'd learn that playing with fire usually got him burned. '_Burn baby burn_,' he growled silently.

They were startled forgetting for a moment the world and people around them, jumping apart when Sam and Mary Elizabeth whispered in unison, "Get a room."

Dean grumbled at the look on Krista's face, knowing that was never going to happen. '_Oh well, she probably couldn't handle him anyway_,' he snickered silently.

Pushing her way past Krista, Mary Elizabeth chuckled saying, "Hey leave some for the rest of us," before flinging herself into Dean's arms. "Don't I get a kiss Dean?" she pouted playfully.

Dean laughed at her outrageous behavior. "Sure Brat," he growled affectionately. Hugging her tight, he planted a wet mushy kiss in the center of her forehead.

When she huffed in protest, he laughed saying, "That's for interrupting. This," he whispered slowly as his lips met hers, "Is for saving my brother's life." The kiss was soft and gentle but it made the girl quiver all the way to her toes. It wasn't the hot, needy kiss he gave Krista, but it held all the love and affection he felt for the young girl. "If you ever need anything, just call us ok," he murmured quietly.

"Love you Dean," she whispered so only he could hear.

Dean grinned and set Mary Elizabeth on her feet. "Love you too Pee-Wee," he chuckled "Take care of yourself."

"I will," she whispered her eyes brimming with tears.

She had spent the last four days at his side, talking, joking and annoying him. As a Wolfhound she'd seen what lay beneath the facade he showed to the world, the fear, the pain he kept hidden. As a teenager she'd caught glimpses of the heartbreak that he kept hidden. She sighed wishing she could do more for him, since he had done so much for her.

Dean winked and brushed at the tears. "Go annoy Sammy brat," he chuckled, voice rough with emotion.

On the other side of the car Sam found himself wrapped in feminine arms. Krista placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, "Take care of yourself Sam," she whispered, "And him," she nodded toward Dean.

Sam laughed at the droll tone of her words; Dean could try the patience of a saint and had on many occasions. "I'll try," the young hunter sighed anxiously.

Krista shook her head in amusement. "They broke the mold when they made you two. The world would definitely be on the loosing end without you," she whispered slowly.

_If you only knew_,' Sam murmured brokenly. His brother was going to die for him and the time was fast approaching when the demon would come hunting for Dean's soul. That was killing him, slowly; piece-by-piece Sam was dying with him.

Pushing back the pain, he gently kissed her cheek. He would break the deal, he had to break the deal, he vowed silently as he glanced sideways at his brother.

He didn't have long to stew over his words before Mary Elizabeth threw herself into his arms. "Love you Sam,' she growled capturing his lips.

Sam groaned as her sweet, demanding lips captured his. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she whispered in his ear. "Wanna get a room?"

"Yes, NOOO," he stammered out.

Mary Elizabeth giggled. "Well it was worth a try," she grinned impishly.

"You are such a brat," he growled, "Good thing I love you." Laughing he set her down. Sam wanted to tell her she needed a spanking, but in her current mood she probably ask him to do it and enjoy it in the process. He shook his head his lips curling in a wry smile. Switching gears, he murmured slowly, "Thanks for saving my life."

Her eyes crinkled in mischief, "My pleasure – beside I couldn't let a hot stud-muffin like you slip away, now could I?"

Sam nearly choked at the words, "Brat," he growled when he saw the twinkle in her eyes.

Blowing him a kiss the teenager skipped away.

Elizabeth Fitzgerald stepped close drawing both of them to her side. Her goodbye was a little more staid but no less heartfelt as she whispered, "Thank you both for bringing them home to me!" Placing a gentle butterfly kiss on their cheeks she placed her hand over the pentagram tattooed on their chests.

The hunters felt the gentle warmth of her touch flowing through them. They blinked in amazement. A few seconds later they wondered if they had imagined it when she removed her hand.

There was a knowing light in her eyes when she looked at them. She could see the pain they held close to their hearts. The love they shared for each other that oft times got in the way. Sighing she wished she could do something to help them. Something more than send them off to face their destiny. But the fates had set them on a rocky road that she could not alter as much as she might like too.

With a heavy heart she walked away to wrap her arms around her granddaughters.

"Hey doc," Dean greeted Jason as he walked up.

The young doctor stepped close and held out his hand. "You trying to steal my girl?" he grumbled good-naturedly.

"As a matter of fact," Dean grinned back. "I am! Too bad she won't have me," he chuckled.

Jason laughed.

"Thanks for picking up the pieces doc," Dean said shaking the young physician's hand. "You did a damn fine job of putting Sam and me back together again."

"My pleasure Dean, just don't get caught up in any more tornados."

"_If you only knew_!I'll try doc, I'll try," he mumbled. "Good luck with the courtship," Dean chuckled.

Laughing Jason shot back, "I'm going to need it I think."

"Yes you are," Dean snickered, "Yes you are!"

The hunters watched as the foursome walked slowly away. Crossing the street they saw Krista and Mary Elizabeth each turn and blow a kiss over their shoulder.

Reaching up, Dean smiled and plucked the imaginary kiss out of the air and touched it to his lips, Sam did the same and they both laughed. It felt good to laugh for a change.

After the last few weeks the scene was surreal, it felt so damn normal, Sam mussed silently.

Sam looked up when he heard his brother's groan. "Hey you ok," he asked quickly

"No," Dean groused. "Here comes Charlie and his mom. Round two."

"It'll be ok Dean, just hang in for a couple more minutes," the young hunter chuckled.

Charlie raced across the street his mother's hand held tightly in his. There was a spring in her step and she held a handful of daisies in her left hand. It was a pretty sight.

Dean sighed at the glimmer of happiness he saw in her eyes. She looked different now. The light had come back into her life and her lilting laughter soothed a tired soul. Sometimes he did some things right.

"Hey Charlie, Hello Mrs. McKenzie," Sam called out in greeting.

"Hey Sam, you guys leaving," Charlie asked fretfully.

"Yeah Charlie, time for us to get back on the road," Sam told him quickly.

"I introduced mom to the fairies last night, it was awesome, right mom," he chuckled.

The woman's eyes crinkled with laughter as she remembered the events of the previous evening. She'd never seen anything like it before. Fairies, there were really and truly fairies in the world – hidden to prying eyes by pretending to be fireflies. Hundreds of them had flitted around their heads singing and dancing in the moonlight they had wiped away some of the sorrow in her heart.

"It was amazing," she sighed.

Standing on tip-toe she brushed a light kiss across the hunter's cheeks. "I have my Charlie back, thank you."

A quirky smile tiled Dean's lips. He'd never admit to the warm glow her words evoked.

"Sure wish you could stay," Charlie whispered on a sigh.

"We'll be back Charlie, when we do we'll make sure to stop by and say hi," Sam told him.

Amelia McKenzie rummaged through the backpack Charlie had slung over his shoulder saying, "I made you some sandwiches and cookies for the road." She didn't give them time to refuse but pushed a large bag into Sam's hands.

Smiling, she gently touched their hands saying, "Bye boys, come back and visit, our door is always open to you."

Charlie stepped in and wrapped his arms around Sam. The smile on his face dimmed as he looked up into Sam's face. "You brought me out of the darkness. I'm home now; I never thought that would ever happen. I don't know what Angela meant Sam, but I know you'll find a way out of the darkness. You have too."

Sam hugged the boy again, his gaze sliding to his brother standing beside him. Holding the young man tight he whispered, "I hope so Charlie," he murmured. "I hope so."

Slowly the boy stepped back a sad smile of his face at the thought of his friend leaving. "Take care of yourself Sam."

"You too Charlie," Sam whispered solemnly.

Dean turned and leaned his aching body against the black Impala, a strange look on his face as he watched the Mongrel Horde walk away.

Moving to stand beside him, Sam laid a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "Now that wasn't so hard was it?"

"Maybe not for you Sam, you get off on all that mushy, emo crap."

Sam laughed, "Oh come on, you enjoyed it and you know it.

"The kissing part – yeah, that I enjoyed," Dean looked smug.

Sam laughed and cuffed his brother's arm making sure it was his uninjured arm.

Dean skittered away chuckling. "Come on meathead," he grumbled. "Time's a wasting and you know how Bobby gets when we're late."

"Don't I ever," Sam chuckled. "He'll send the cavalry out."

Bobby had called the previous evening needing their help with job in New Orleans. He did the swearing thing, calling them knuckleheads and a few other choice words when he found out about the Clurichaun and what had ensued.

The call had been laced with Bobby's typical emotions, starting with anger and rolling slowly into concern for their welfare. When all was said and done Bobby had refused their help on the hunt when he'd heard about their injuries.

Instead Sam had agreed to help gather info and Bobby offered them a place to rest and relax.

Dean had agreed to nothing – which wasn't unusual. Sliding into the car he yelled at his brother, "Come on Sammy quit dawdling, we're burning daylight here bitch!"

"Put a sock in it, ya jerk," Sam spouted as he yanked the door open.

Seconds later Sam was settled and the Impala was humming down the road when Dean eyed the bag on the floor between his brother's feet. Holding out his hand eye growled, "Cookie."

"Please," Sam grumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Please may I have a cookie." A playful grin tilted one side of his face and he added, "You hot stud-muffin you!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_**Finito, I hope you enjoyed my ramblings as much as I enjoyed putting pen to paper. I have another in the works but it's not ready for prime time yet – soon I hope. It's called Broken.**_

_**Super mega thanks to Jackfan2 – my awesome Beta!!**_

_**Huggers all**_


End file.
